Family Bonding
by A. Lincoln
Summary: -Pre-Breaking Dawn- When Bella can’t figure out what to get Edward as a wedding gift, Carlisle offers something unexpected - just two simple strips of parchment with the instructions from a woman named Elizabeth Masen, Edward's mother.
1. Do Me a Favor, 1918

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: This story is placed into two time categories: The early 1900s and Present Day. Chapters fluctuate between these timeframes. 1900s are written in Elizabeth Masen's view and Present Day in Bella's, with a few exceptions here and there. Enjoy! :)

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I: Do Me a Favor

**Chicago 1918**

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The feeling was indescribable, the pain overwhelming. It devoured all coherent thought – Carlisle must have thought I was already dead by the lack of life in my stare.

I watched his back as he mixed two fluids together in a beaker and found myself frowning as I realized that the substance was for me. It did not look like my usual cup of tea, but if it would give me enough strength to speak my distress, then I would gladly subdue and take as much as possible.

Unfortunately, the medicine only gave my throat the worst of stinging sensations as it glided effortlessly down my throat. I wanted to tell him to stop, and I knew he had an idea of the pain from the worry lines that creased with brow. I whimpered pathetically and he tilted the glass upward for a moment to position his other hand over my forehead.

In order to take my mind off the growing pain, I watched the steady rise and fall of Carlisle's chest as he poured the remainder of the glass into my cracked and quivering lips. His hand was either alarmingly cold or I was extremely hot, and I figured it was me. I had been in such a state at the hospital for the past several days and my body was not adapting well to the fluctuating temperatures.

I used the sudden strength gained from the medicine to swallow the remnants of the juice. The moisture on my tongue was one uncomfortable feeling among many so I tried to moisten my lips by running my tongue along them.

"You shouldn't do that." His soft voice came from the corner of the room and my head reacted automatically to its alluring tenor. A small smile graced my lips despite the pain as I let the echo of the room embrace his voice to its full extent.

"Why shouldn't I?" I knew it was near impossible to frame words with the immense pain, but I wanted to hear his melodic reply. It lessened the pain just a bit when he talked to me.

"It only moistens your lips temporarily; they'll be dryer than they were before in a few minutes," he replied, eyeing me furtively.

I felt my lips upturn slightly at his stare and he responded with a smile that threatened to steal the remaining air in my body. His teeth were perfect white and his eyes seemed to sparkle, although I could have attributed all of his godliness to my unstable state.

But my observations were cut short when his face turned serious. I had the sudden urge to ask what was wrong, but the thought was cut short when I saw where he was staring. He was staring at my face with the most sorrowful expression I had ever seen on his beautiful face.

I frowned and tried to form words, but that set off a chain reaction of events. I coughed lightly and brought my shaking hand to cover it.

Oh, the blood. There was so much blood.

It was too much to simply come from my small cough; it must have started coming through my nose, but all I knew was that there was _so much_ of it.

Carlisle was swiftly by my side, pinching the soft flesh of my nose. I began to cry; burning tears cascaded down my cheeks as the pain overtook every part of my body. I must have been convulsing since Carlisle seemed to be in holding me down with some type of composed strength.

I could hear my frantic breathing above all else. My eyes were spinning; the white walls of the room began oscillating around my pupils and I bit my lip as the nausea rose. I felt the blood on my teeth and knew it was almost over.

I would not survive this.

I whimpered as I realized that my son would have no one. My husband was already gone, having perished two days earlier. Edward had his cousins in New York, but they were serving in the war and would be of no help. I did not want him going there to die by the hands of another person.

Another convulsion rippled through me and suddenly everything stopped. I was flat on my back and the flickering of the light above penetrated my lazy eyes. My mouth was open and I could feel the blood stained sheets under my icy grasp. There was a slight stinging in my arm, but my neck did not have enough energy to turn and examine it.

Carlisle sensed my confusion and answered my silent question.

"I gave you more medicine - nothing to drink though." He added the last part for my benefit, since he knew of my distaste for liquids, and I wished that I could smile. But all I could do was stare blankly at the ceiling.

Carlisle rubbed my soiled cheek with the pad of his thumb and stood up. I grunted in response and he stopped momentarily.

"I will be back. I'm going to check on Edward."

I didn't even attempt to form a response as he exited the room.

At this point, my face felt like someone had poured honey on it. I felt absolutely horrible and knew I must have looked disgusting to him. I hoped that no one would come in the room and found myself inwardly laughing at the situation. No one would come here. We all were too repulsive.

I bit my lip to stop the flow of agony about to burst from me as I sat up. It took deep breaths for me to reach my hand over to grab the piece of paper and inkpad from the table. I wrote hunched over, my words leaving the clean page messy with my hurried instructions. Once finished, I placed the piece of paper back onto the table.

I laid my head back on the soft pillow and contemplated Edward's life. I hoped he would make it through this and become the strong man he had promised me he would be. I hoped all of his wishes would be granted. I hoped for everything for him.

When Carlisle's footsteps informed me of his presence, I smiled sadly. My breathing had slowed and, since his departure, more blood had stained my neck and jaw. Even my blinking seemed to have been counted in minutes, not seconds. Silent tears kept falling and I damned them all to hell, but it wasn't enough to stop them.

I did not want to leave my son.

Carlisle must have known that his attempts were in vain. He pulled up the chair and sat at my bedside, stroking my matted hair softly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice almost hoarse from the strain of visiting the ward of the dying, where Edward lay alone and afraid.

I brought my hand up to his and grasped it tightly. His caresses ceased and he brought his hand down to my side, both still intertwined.

"Just do me a favor." My voice shook with the fear of death as my eyes found his and then the piece of paper on the table. He followed my gaze and, with his other hand, picked it up from the table as though it was as delicate as glass.

It was hard to even keep my eyes closed, and I barely managed to get the words out. "Give that to someone he deeply cares for, please."

Carlisle nodded once. I felt his hand slowly slip out of mine and I smiled weakly. He leaned over and his lips pressed against my forehead, so soft that I could have doubted he actually did it. But indeed he did because his bottom lip was stained with one drop of my blood.

The feeling in the air was tangible as I watched him with wary eyes. I blinked once and the blood on his lip had disappeared. I couldn't tell how he had taken it off, but there was a small cloth in his hand that wasn't there before.

He smiled.

I smiled in return.

Then I let out the last full breath of my life.

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Posted: June 20th, 2008.


	2. Do Me a Favor, Present Day

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: Well, I forgot the disclaimer. I do not own _Twilight. _The novel, its characters, and its plot are property of Stephenie Meyer.

Oh, and I suppose I should wish a happy belated birthday to dear Edward. What a way to start the summer.

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I: Do Me a Favor

**Present Day**

* * *

To my surprise, it was dark outside when I left the final store in the plaza. Most of the cars in the parking lot had gone, and my lone vehicle still waited for its driver. I sauntered towards it, dejected and with shoulders slumped, my eyes scanning the darkening horizon with what must have been a scary expression.

I was frustrated and tired - a combination which didn't hold good company when with one another. Evidently, I was too tired to even put the key into the lock properly because I was still fumbling with it when a shadow appeared by my side.

My eyes widened at the silhouette beside me in the glare of the driver's window and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I exhaled and spun around, my arms going up in self defense position number three.

A startled laugh escaped my lips when I saw who it was and he seemed genuinely pleased with my reaction.

It took him one swift movement to bring my arms back to my sides and trap me in a hug. I wrapped my arms slowly around his, afraid that he was upset at something beyond my knowing. But when he did finally speak, after seconds of silence, his words were playful.

"I've taught you well."

I wanted to melt at the feeling of his breath on my ear, but instead I laughed and waited for his next words. Instead of words though, he slipped out of our embrace and motioned me with a pale finger to do it again.

I obeyed easily and put my arms in that position. He had been teaching me defense positions for the last few weeks, mainly because he was afraid of what Mike Newton or Jacob would do with the wedding become only a few weeks away. Of course, he seemed to not realize that Mike wouldn't attack me. But Jacob, on the other hand…

I shook the thought out of my head and grinned at him when he was ready to inspect me. He walked around me achingly slow and I felt his eyes on my back as he checked for the slightest error in my position.

It was unnerving, being checked by the one who was good at everything, but I was happy that his eyes were on me and no one else.

Suddenly, without much warning except for a small gasp which escaped his perfect lips (he loved mimicking my human reactions), he took my arms from behind.

I stopped breathing; he was so close to me that I could feel his muscular chest on my back, cold through the fabrics of our clothing. Over the past few weeks, he had kept physical contact on the bottom of his list of priorities (as if it was near the top in the first place) because he was 'building up for our wedding night.'

Now it seemed like he was throwing that promise out the window. I could certainly feel the tension now. If I was frustrated, it seemed like nothing in comparison to his featherlike but harsh brushes against my arms as he fixed them back in position.

"Bella," he started, his voice surprisingly strained in my ear, "your forearms, they need to perpendicular to the ground."

I could barely form an argument because his arms were fixing it for me and his chest was rippling with the effort.

"And," he continued with his arms now gliding slowly up mine, leaving goose bumps at the contact, "your biceps, they have to be parallel or else a hook punch or roundhouse kick will easily break the position."

After he said this, I was prepared to move away before my stomach exploded with butterflies, but he did something so unexpected that the butterflies immediately shriveled up, died, and had dragon flies take their place.

He began kissing the back of my neck. His touch was cold and feather light, but left trails of fire in their wake.

"Edward?" My voice was tiny and weak as his hands expertly twisted me around to face him.

His eyes were a bright butterscotch, meaning he had fed and wasn't hungry, not in the way his kind should be hungry, at least. There was another hunger though, lingering deep within his irises, threatening to consume me with the sheer force it wished to exhibit.

"I can't leave you for one moment, can I?" He asked, more to himself than to me. His kisses continued but now they trailed from my jaw to my ear. I was frozen in place, listening to his ragged breaths as his fingers rubbed lazy patterns on my arm.

"It's too late for you to be out alone; you know what kinds of people loiter in Port Angeles." When he muttered this, his kisses became more hurried against my skin and this was the only indication that he was remembering what had happened to me on my first visit.

"I'm sorry," I replied pathetically, wishing that he wouldn't put himself through such torture when I wasn't around. I was pretty sure I was able to defend myself, for one, and I just deemed all his worrying unnecessary. I was the daughter of the police chief for goodness' sake, a fact of which I always had to politely remind him of.

"You should be." He let one small smirk escape, and then his lips were on mine.

I melted against his embrace, but tried with as much effort as I could muster not to push him too far with my response. His lips were cold, as usual, and this heightened my sensitivity to him as I was lightly being pushed back.

My back was now on the car, his hands on either side of me, and he managed to not break the kiss. His lips were urgent on mine, and I wanted to coax him to do something more, but suddenly they were gone, leaving me in a confused state of mind and body.

He smirked confidently at the look in my eyes. With that came the realization that he was punishing me. He knew I wanted more than just his celibate kisses and touches, and this must have been payback for worrying him.

"You!" I bit out, glaring at him menacingly. He laughed it off, grabbing my keys from my hand and opening the door quickly.

"Let's go. Carlisle needs to talk to you."

That threw me off for a moment. He said it like it was every day I had a talk from the head of the Cullen family, a nearly four hundred year old vampire. The truth was that I never had more than courteous greetings and small conversations with him. But now he had to talk to me? Was this a reason to be scared?

I tried to hide my sudden hesitance to go back to his house, but he noticed.

"Don't worry, it will be fine." But he seemed frustrated by that fact, as though he wasn't being told something, or as if Carlisle was blocking his mind from him for some reason. They both seemed plausible, what with the wedding coming up, that the Cullen family would be keeping secrets from both of us. But I'm sure it was much harder to keep a secret from Edward than from me.

With this thought we drove off, and the duration of the trip was spent with me complaining about his insane driving and him dazzling me randomly.

When we arrived, I was on the brink of breaking out into a sweat. I was extremely nervous, a saddening revelation because I thought I was beyond this with a family of vampires. But I suppose it could have been contributed to simple human emotions; anyone would be nervous in this situation. The fact that he was older than humanly possible and wiser just made the tip of the iceberg that much colder.

I followed Edward silently into the large space that was the main hall. It was eerily quiet, but I'm sure they were all here and my ears couldn't detect any sound.

When the doubts began to surface, I stopped momentarily. What if it was something really bad? The wedding was off? Someone had died? Vampires were after me, _again_?

Edward was at my side immediately, his thumb rubbing my palm comfortingly as he brought it up to his lips. He kissed each of my fingers, his eyes never off my paralyzed ones.

"Love, do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course." What a silly question.

He smiled and stood up straight. "Then trust me when I say that his words will not hurt you. I think I've known him long enough to be sure of that much."

"Right," I said, trying to convince myself that he was speaking the truth. "Okay, let's go."

He pulled my hand up the remainder of the stairs and to the large mahogany doors that were Carlisle's office. He knocked once - although I'm sure Carlisle knew we were there - and Carlisle's beautiful voice beckoned us inside.

I tried to keep my eyes on his figure as we both sat down, but it was quite difficult when I knew his extravagant paintings were on the wall behind us. I hadn't been in the office since Edward's explanation of his family, and my mind wanted a renewed picture.

I closed my eyes briefly, contemplating for a moment my options, and realized I had none. He had something to tell me and I would have to listen.

When I opened my eyes, I barely caught Carlisle's glance at Edward. I wanted to be polite and act as though I didn't see it, but I felt Edward tense beside me. I dared a peek in his direction and saw that he was standing, scowling fiercely at nothing in particular.

"Edward?"

He spared me a brief look, one that showed how vulnerable he was in this situation, and he responded. "He wants to speak with you alone."

Then he left and I was indeed alone with Dr. Cullen.

I looked shyly back at him, steeling my nerves in that small expanse of time. I would let him speak first, one because it was respectful and two because my mouth was too dry to even muster a common hello.

"Bella, I'll just cut to the chase."

His words seemed polite enough and I was sure he could sense my distress in the way my heart sped up the moment he said my name.

"Alice has told me that you've been having a hard time finding a gift for Edward. Have you found one for him since?"

Scared stiff, I shook my head in the negative.

"Well, I have something for you." He reached into a drawer in his desk and took out a small golden box. It was intricately designed, with two guns and a crown being the centerpiece. The diamonds outlining the sides shone brightly, and its magnificence radiated throughout the room. It showed beauty that could only be achieved through much effort. Obviously, it must have been old.

His fingers pulled out two slips of old parchment and he slowly handed them to me. I took them with great care, but did not read them because I was unsure if I was supposed to. He put the stunning case back into the drawer and clasped his hand in front of him as he spoke.

"A very important person gave that to me and asked me to give it to you."

"Me personally?" I wondered, the words escaping before I had the time to make it seem more polite.

"You could say that." And he seemed mildly amused by that fact.

I opened the crumpled and messy one first and read slowly.

_Carlisle,_

_Please visit my house, located at 181 Archer Avenue. There, upstairs, you'll find a gold case in the easternmost room. Please give this case, along with its contents, to someone close to Edward who can fulfill its wishes. _

_Thank you for everything you have done for my family. My husband and I will give a good word to God up in heaven for you._

_Love,_

_Elizabeth Masen_

I was shocked into a silence that lasted what seemed like hours. Carlisle, who must've been watching my expression shift from confusion to awe to sadness, asked me to read the second one.

This note was in much nicer writing, although it varied for each date. The dates, to my surprise, were scattered, starting from 1905 and ending in 1920, the last one being written by what seemed to be a male. I read through the list and its items again, and my eyes jumped back to the title which I had missed.

_Edward's Wishes._

Carlisle was at my side as the tears began to flow freely from my face. I was shaken, yet I was still able to conjure up words through my scattered thoughts.

"This. . . is from his mom?"

"Yes," he murmured quietly, staring at the notes in my hand. "If you need a gift for Edward, I'm sure you can give him this."

I stared at the two notes, one elegantly crafted, the other rushed and with a red thumbprint (was it blood?) in one corner, and decided.

"No. I'm going to try my best to grant these wishes." This was it. I was determined and ready. I wasn't sure if Edward remembered any of these wishes he must have had when he was younger, but I was prepared to give him the best wedding gift a human could give - memories.

Carlisle chuckled softly and went back to his desk to take out the case again. He handed it to me with a smile and I briefly wondered if Elizabeth was dazzled when she was with him.

"Bella, I love your determination, but did you read the first wish?"

I was slightly taken aback by his words and looked at the list again. This one was from 1905 which meant Edward was around 4 years old. That thought was incredibly cute in my head.

But his wish wasn't.

"Ah. . . ." This was not good.

"Good luck," he replied, a large smile on his beautiful face as he sat back down and took out a large book.

I nodded in agreement and took it as my cue to leave. I thanked him, exited, and inched to the washroom down the hall. Apparently Edward wasn't here because I was expecting him to be at my side the moment I left to ask for details.

I closed the door, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and stared at the porcelain wall.

"What four year old in his right mind would want to do this?" I wondered aloud, my eyes glaring daggers into the walls.

But I had already told Carlisle that I would do this, and this was Elizabeth Masen's wish.

"I've jumped from strange places before, but this is beyond crazy."

I stood up, adrenaline pulsing through me at the mere thought of such a feat, and I wandered over to Alice's room.

She opened the door without a knock and grabbed my hand, hauling me inside. I was about to explain the situation when she stopped me, the biggest of grins plastered on her small face.

"I know already, and no, you should not tell anyone what you're about to do unless you want all of Forks after you."

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Posted: June 21st, 2008.


	3. One of Many, 1905

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

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II: One of Many

**Niagara Falls, New York 1905**

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"All aboard! The Chicago train will be departing for New York in five minutes!"

My eyes were wide as I scanned the deck. People were everywhere; all of them seemed extremely large and tall as I searched for the one person I couldn't afford to lose.

He was here just a minute ago! He was standing beside me, grasping my hand for dear life as people rushed by us with no regard for others' safety. I had let go of his hand for a mere second to help my husband load our baggage onto the train. In that second, he was gone.

At first I had assumed he went to help Charles, our cousin from New York who had been staying with us, with the baggage. But he was 4 years old, and I knew he was probably causing mischief somewhere beyond my line of sight.

But now it had been fifteen minutes and my mind could no longer take it. I could see my husband across the deck, at the front of the train, asking a crowd of men if they had seen a small boy. I myself was nearing a large group of women who were swooning at something – or someone.

"Excuse me, ladies," I began, and they stopped immediately once they saw the look of pure fear etched on my face. "Have you seen a young boy, my son, about this high" – I gestured to my hip area, although it was difficult to see under my layers of dress -"reddish brown ringlet curls up to his jaw, green eyes, Buster Brown tunic, you know, that horrible little rascal in the Sunday papers that every child loves –"

By now I was making frantic gestures in the air, waving my arms around like a fool. The women, clearly confused, looked to one another and unspoken messages flowed through their eyes. The oldest, with a softly rippling golden hair and beautiful hazelnut eyes, laughed and motioned behind her. And surely Edward was there, grasping the back of her dress and grinning shamelessly.

My face automatically softened at his expression, but when he stuck his tongue out at me in the most defiant manner, it hardened.

"Edward Anthony Masen, come here right now!" My voice was demanding, but the way my hand shot up contradicted my words. Somehow he knew I wasn't mad at him and he never failed to express this knowledge through the actions he deemed fun.

The old woman, who seemed unperturbed by the way he was clinging onto her dress, bent down and handed him a lollipop. I watched as he accepted it graciously with a courteous bow and a thank you, and ran off - in the direction of the front of the train.

The train was slowly itching forward to make room for the final car to approach the deck. Even at that speed, it would still manage to inflict damage upon my son if he were to hit it.

I opened my mouth to scream for someone to stop him when a hand shot out, clamped my mouth shut, and dragged me to the train.

I tried to bite it, figuring that I might as well embarrass myself further since I had already broken many of society's unspoken rules, but the hand was dirty and I could taste the copper on it when I opened my mouth.

I was dropped down onto the cushion in our car on the train and my dress fanned out over the red seating. The man who had kidnapped me sat across and smiled as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Charles, go get Edward!" I yelled, tears falling free down my cheeks. I pointed to the window. "Did you not see where that child was heading? The train will hit him. Oh no, someone stop him, oh please, please." I was sobbing into my bonnet, leaving it a disgusting mess with my cascading tears.

His face went from amusement to regret as he took a napkin out of his suit pocket. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry. Edward is all right, I can assure you." His voice still held traces of amusement and I glared at him through my hazy vision.

"How would you know? You didn't stop him, did you?" I bit my lip to stop from yelling because I could feel many eyes on our figures.

"I want my lollipop back, thief!"

My head shot up when I heard that tiny voice that belonged to my erratic son. I turned to Charles, who had a look on him that suggested he knew where Edward was headed all along, and then I focused my attention to where the voice had emerged from.

Standing there, a look of pure joy on his face was my husband, a lollipop in his mouth, holding Edward in the crook of his arm.

Ed saw the look on my face and set Edward on the ground. He approached me and crouched down so that his mahogany eyes met mine.

"Darling, what's wrong? I found Edward, by the way." He smiled, but that was soon replaced by a frown of confusion. He honestly had no idea what I had just gone through.

Charles sent me a look of pity and Edward just stood there, still trying to pull the lollipop from my husband's mouth.

"Men!" I hissed, and then put my head on the table in front of me.

I didn't care if people were doubting my sanity and my upbringing; I would take a nap right here, whether anyone liked it or not.

* * *

It was early morning when we arrived in New York. Edward had fallen asleep about midway there and his other half was playing cards with Charles in the other car when the train finally came to a stop.

I had cleaned myself up and looked much more presentable when I exited. Waiting there was John and his wife, Sally, with their car. Of course, I had no idea what was so special about their red machine, but my husband was ecstatic when he caught sight of it.

"Oh, there it is!" He grinned and walked over to it with a look in his eyes that told me he was love struck. "The new Cadillac Model A, only three years on the market." He was stroking it lovingly, admiring the leather cushioning and metal frame.

"Edward Sr., mind saying hello to your family first?" Sally asked with mock jealousy. John laughed lightly and made his way over to me, a look of happiness on his face.

"John," I greeted, moving forward to meet him.

"Oh, Elizabeth, it's been so long," he replied, taking me in his arms. John and I had been friends since birth, inseparable until his family was required to work in New York. It had been years since I had seen him, and I was glad to be in his presence now.

We hugged for an immeasurable moment before he reluctantly let go.

"And look! If it isn't little Edward." John grinned and grabbed Edward who was hiding behind my dress. Edward squealed joyfully, wrapping his arms around John's neck as he twirled him around.

I was truly happy that my family could now make yearly trips to visit everyone in New York. With the completion of that railroad, I could now show Edward what lie beyond the walls of Chicago. I wanted to expose him to the wonders of the world.

They continued to twirl (I'm sure John must have been dizzy), as I headed over to the car. Charles was already in the other vehicle, having packed all the belongings while we were greeting each other. I felt a tad bit sorry for not aiding him in his work, but that was not my responsibility as a woman. But, as I passed him to head into the Cadillac, I whispered my appreciation and he returned it with a charming smile.

We were on our way to John's home to freshen up and catch up with one another. Then, on my son's request and my horror, we would be visiting the Low Steel Arch Bridge. I couldn't hide the terror on my face and my husband noticed.

"What's wrong?" He whispered.

I looked at him strangely, as though that question was completely out of place. "Hm? Ah, I'm fine."

I couldn't tell him that the fact that the Niagara River roared below was the scariest prospect I have ever had to face in my life, other than child birth.

I took a deep breath and made my face give nothing away as the car rolled along the rocky road. Suddenly, Edward spoke from my lap.

"Mommy, it won't be scary."

Although I had no idea how he knew I was scared, I wished I could believe him.

* * *

It was late afternoon when I found myself on the sidewalk of the Low Steel Arch Bridge, holding on for dear life. My husband and Edward had ventured out further, laughing and pointing out how fast the water was rushing beneath us. I wanted to run back to the car, but my dress would probably cause me to slip, and heaven forbid that I fall to my death.

"John, please," I begged, turning around to face him. His eyes were twinkling with excitement, as were Sally's as they slowly pushed their way forward, forcing me to move along with them.

"Don't worry," he started in a low voice.

"They wouldn't build this bridge if they wanted people to fall," Sally finished, a smirk plastered on her white face.

"But you never know…" I insisted, my eyes staring into theirs helplessly.

"Daddy!" Edward's shout caused me to spin around and almost trip over the tassels at the end of my dress.

What I saw nearly made me scream in terror.

My husband was holding Edward by his waist as he sat over the edge, pointing out to Niagara Falls far off in the distance. My throat was dry as I ran towards them. I could hear Sally's and John's footsteps behind my figure, although the sound was small in comparison to the frantic beating of my heart.

I looked at my husband. "Edward, what on Earth are you doing?!"

He looked at me and grinned. "Showing our son the beauty of nature."

I looked at my son. "Edward, did you ask for this?!"

He looked at me and grinned. "Mommy, I want to jump off here one day and swim with the fishies!"

Later that day, John politely informed me that I fainted on the spot and made Edward upset because I caused everyone to worry. With this I realized that I should not have let him read those Buster Brown cartoons in the Sunday Paper. That boy was not a good influence on him.

And the sad thing was that I knew that wish would be just one of many that would cause me some sort of harm.

* * *

Posted: June 22nd, 2008.

Author's Note: This first wish is something I absolutely would NEVER do. Goodness, Edward is such a daredevil. ;) This actually came from my friend's nephew who said this upon seeing the Rainbow Bridge. I pulled an Elizabeth when I saw that bridge for the first time.


	4. One of Many, Present Day

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: I have more story alerts than I do reviews. Somehow that makes me sad.

* * *

II: One of Many

**Present Day**

* * *

"Bella, please let me come in."

"Jeez!" –I cringed – "Edward, hold on a moment. Oh, that must have been painful."

"Bella, what exactly are you doing in there?" His voice was harder now, aggravated.

A sharp hiss blew through my clenched teeth as Charlie's head exploded on the wet pavement. Several large pieces were torn completely off his neck and sent flying backwards while the wig on his head dropped into the outdoor pool. Two men cackled relentlessly in the background as a third bent down to check the dead man's pulse.

He shook his head gravely while the others doubled over in laughter. Standing up, the man motioned for the camera man to zoom in on Charlie's decapitated head while the other two turned on sorrowful music.

"It seems the old chap is dead. This is why you shouldn't go bungee jumping off your house."

Then the credits began rolling. I stared, dazed, as the names of the comedians rolled up the screen in a painstakingly slow fashion. Charlie, the manikin, was the last name to appear, accompanied by a picture showing the before and after of their little experiment.

I swiveled the chair around slowly and watched as Alice sat on sofa with her eyes closed, either concentrating on not laughing at my expression or making sure Edward was unable to read her mind.

I hoped it was the latter, but was not surprised when she cleared her throat awkwardly before opening the door for Edward. In that timeframe, I had closed the video webpage and tried to compose myself – so far, it was not working well.

Edward entered, hesitant. He surveyed the room, clearly looking for the source of what made Alice so eerily quiet and me so loud. After a thorough examination, he set his golden eyes on me. They narrowed slightly, looking me over, and set back into their hard state as he stepped forward.

As always, Edward looked as though he had just stepped out of a beauty salon. His hair was in casual disarray and his eyes were a darker honey that still managed to smolder at the right moment. He was wearing a sleek mahogany sweater that fit his figure nicely and black skinny jeans. I ogled for as long as I could without seeming suspicious, and then smiled hugely at him.

Alice had mysteriously left and her lack of presence made me highly aware of something important. My eyes widened perceptibly and I turned my head to the empty space beside the computer's mouse. I let out a sigh of relief. Alice had taken the case with his wish list.

Edward was at my side swiftly, and I felt myself being pulled toward the sofa. I landed with a loud 'oof' on top of him as he sat up and positioned himself.

"What have you been up to, my dear fiancée?" he asked, hugging me closer to him to ensure that I had absolutely no room to escape.

Although I had gotten into a bad habit of lying to others since Edward arrived in my life, I hadn't gotten any better and lying to him or any being that could hear my heart beat, for that matter. My heart had a tendency to skip a few vital thumps when I was about to lie, even if it was a half-truth. That was the main reason why I attempted to make a truth out of anything I told Edward because I knew he was looking for other little indications of my deceit other than my mind - something which he couldn't read.

I decided that I would try. I knew that I couldn't keep this list from Edward forever, but telling him now would ruin the surprise element that made this endeavor so exciting.

"Just watching some videos," I replied, easily mimicking his tone. He didn't buy it.

"What type of videos?" His left hand drew enticing patterns on my stomach and it was driving me crazy.

"Scary videos, as you probably heard." I turned to show him the sincerity in my eyes but was caught off guard by his proximity. His glorious face was crossed with indecision and frustration. His eyes met mine for a moment and I knew that he knew I was deliberately leaving out significant details.

"What could possibly be scarier than me?" He suddenly asked, his expression morphing into hurt. I smiled and tapped him hard on the shoulder. He grabbed his shoulder and winced (he _really_ loved mimicking my human reactions) and I had a slight moment to free myself. I took it gracefully and hopped out of his cold lap and back onto the swivel chair.

"Oh, I could name a few, but then we would be here all day," I replied sarcastically, shaking my head at the obviousness of the answer.

He grinned, flashing all his teeth and sat up fully. His hand went up to his hair to ruffle it around and I could have sworn I felt my hand spasm as he did it. I ignored the phantom sensation and decided to change the subject before he decided to interrogate me further.

"Did Alice tell you about our plans today?"

He sighed. "Yes, but for some reason" – he smirked at me though his eyes were probing – "I couldn't seem to get a good look at her mind."

"I wonder why that is?" I asked aloud after turning my chair away from him so that my face wouldn't give anything away.

"Yes, I wonder." He was speculating.

I ignored that last comment and typed up the directions of the place we were to visit on the laptop Alice had bought for me. When they popped up, I pressed print and watched Edward stare at the printer suspiciously before standing up to retrieve the paper. I kept my mouth shut as he glanced over the directions.

I had slept over at the Cullen's place and Alice and I had spent yesterday getting all the necessary information about the plans for today. I found this to be more work than I had initially expected; the company that we were using needed medical information and apparently it cost what I deemed 'a lot' and Alice deemed 'nothing.'

It had taken a couple of hours to weed out all the bad companies that would probably kill us with their faulty equipment or overpricing, and then I had to meticulously go through the process of forging health documents for Edward – behind his back. Carlisle had no problem with this and at one point encouraged my behavior as a way for his son to do something new with someone he loves. Of course, I had blushed at that statement and left, documents in hand and blush in cheeks.

But, as I sat in the chair watching Edward try to decipher the routes, I began to doubt myself. Would he be happy with this so-called gift? It seemed like fun to me, but I knew how sensitive Edward was to his human life. I wanted him to remember the good things in life, but it would eventually dig up those events in his life that he wouldn't want to re encounter.

With this in mind, I figured it would be better to explain my plan – I just didn't want to tell him the actual wishes. That was the least I could permit myself to keep a secret.

"We're going to the Pacific Northwest Bridge?" He asked while he folded the paper.

"Yes. Are you ready?" I tried to smile convincingly at him, but it slipped into a tight line as he put the directions in his pocket. Did he already know where it was?

I accepted his hand when he placed it out for me and he led me outside to his car. He opened the passenger side for me and was on the other side, strapped in, when I had finished closing the door.

The directions stayed in his pocket as the car began to exit the Cullen property. He never took his eyes off the rode when he spoke.

"Bella, could you please tell me what is so interesting at the bridge that we have to drive past Seattle for?"

I shot a nervous glance at him then decided I wouldn't survive this trip if I didn't tell him now.

"We're going to do some jumping."

The car lurched forward unexpectedly and my face would have eaten leather had Edward's hand not shot out and grabbed the back of my shirt. My eyes were still wide with fear as I adjusted myself properly in my seat.

I dared a glance in Edward's direction when the car began cruising again and saw that his hands were clenched with deadly force against the steering wheel. His eyes never left the road as he spoke through tight lips.

"Jumping, as in…?" He spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if the answer was vitally important – which it probably was.

My answer came out with no confidence. "Um, bungee jumping."

Comprehension dawned on his face and his hand slipped into his pocket, retrieving the slip of paper with the directions.

I peered at him strangely, waiting for an answer and the moment his eyes met mine, I forgot the fact that he was actually driving.

"Emmett sometimes participates in some recreational activities when he ventures up there." He provided no more explanation and his eyes were intense as they returned to the road.

I suddenly felt extremely awkward in the car and wished that Edward would not ask me anymore questions. But that was not to be because, five minutes later, he asked why we were bungee jumping.

"Good question," I started, giving up and reaching in the back to retrieve my bag. I began to pull out the case, but stopped when it was just peaking out of the top. Edward didn't need to see this particular piece. He just needed an explanation. "It's my gift to you."

The car, thank goodness, was now at a red light. This gave Edward the chance to look at me properly. I saw confusion rage in his eyes and a hint of unexpected surprise.

"I don't understand." As always, he was frustrated by that fact.

"I don't expect you to, yet." I permitted myself a brief smile despite knowing that it would pull him deeper into confusion. "Remember when Carlisle needed to talk to me?"

"Yes," he replied, deeply interested now. We were on Healy road, a deserted dirt road that led to the base of a small mountain located near the bridge. The first red light we had seen in a while was now turning green, but Edward was too engrossed in my half-confession to notice this. Although the sun was now high in the sky and it was nearly noon, there were no other cars on the road.

"Well, he gave me something which belonged to your mother." I stopped to let him digest this information.

Realizing that he was leaning towards me, he slowly put himself back in the driver's seat. We sat like that for a moment, both of us staring out into the road ahead of us, before he spoke at such a level that I had to strain my ears to hear.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes and spoke again. "What did he give you?"

"A list," I said weakly, afraid that he was remembering something bad.

"Of?" He was even more frustrated. His hand went from the steering wheel to his hair, making a fist there as he shut his eyes more tightly.

"It's a list of wishes you made when you were younger."

"When I was alive," he agreed, his voice taking on a nearly mystifying tone.

Then I saw the true significance of this list. To Edward, this list meant something more than just memories. It was proof of his life as a human; a testament to his previous existence. This gift idea I had going was much more than that; this was something that could bridge the gap between his new and old life – and my level of determination set the scale.

He chuckled softly as some sort of understanding passed over his face. "So you plan on granting all of these wishes for me?"

"Yes. That's the plan," I replied.

"Well, since these are memories you're tampering with," he began, stepping on the gas pedal and speeding through the red light toward the mountain with a little _too_ much enthusiasm, "I have one condition to this gift."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. He must have caught my expression through his peripheral vision because he was grinning as he continued.

"Promise me you'll participate in all of these wishes."

"No!" I shouted - nearly a reflex reaction - scared stiff at the prospect of jumping off a bridge, never mind the other outrageous things he had told his mother as a child.

He looked at me. And when his brows furrowed upward and he pouted, all my defenses fell.

"Why?" I said icily, tearing my eyes away from his beautiful face. I clenched my teeth together when I heard him chuckle from beside me.

"Because I won't do it otherwise."

Oh, the sacrifices people have to make for love. "Fine," I huffed, staring at the road as his car went passed the open gate and to the side of the bridge.

He parked, took the keys out of the ignition and swiftly exited. He was already opening my door by the time I blinked. I frowned as I took his hand.

"I'm looking forward to this," he whispered in my ear as he led my shaking feet to the bridge.

"I'm sure you are," I mumbled, forgetting the fact that he could hear me loud and clear.

* * *

"What if he lets me go?" I asked as the bungee jump co-coordinator, suspiciously named Charlie, strapped us together.

"He won't, Ms. Swan." His voice was calm - too calm. Murderously calm.

"What if I let him go?" My voice was getting higher.

"You won't, Ms. Swan." Why was he so calm?

"Can I _die?_"

I felt Edward stiffen.

"Yes. That's what you signed the waiver for, Ms. Swan." Charlie smiled at me and motioned for us to step onto the platform. I didn't budge, but Edward effortlessly pulled me with him to the edge of the plank.

The plank was wooden and instantly reminded me of Pirate movies. Maybe that's why Charlie was so calm. He was going to feed us to the alligators.

"Are you ready, Mr. Cullen?" Charlie asked Edward. He nodded once and Charlie looked reluctantly at me.

"Are you ready, Ms. Swan?"

No, no, no, no, no. "Yes."

Charlie was surprised at my answer, but shook it off and told us to jump when we were ready. He stepped off the plank and sat by the long bungee chord that lay at the end of the plank. _That_ flimsy thing was our lifeline?

I felt Edward's hand rubbing my back comfortably. "Bella, your heart is racing." He sounded pleased, not worried.

I was hyperventilating as I clutched his harness. He tapped my head and positioned himself so that he was facing the bridge and I was facing outwards. That's when I saw it. The water raging below, the outcropping of rocks, the alligators and their claws. . . .

"Edward, let me go back!" I screamed, fighting furiously with the harness. Edward's eyes were bright as he fought to keep us both from falling.

"Bella!" he whispered harshly in my ear, pulling me from my panic attack. "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to ask you a question, you will answer it, and then I want you to put your head into my chest and, whatever you do, do not open your eyes."

"Okay," I sobbed helplessly.

"What exactly was my wish that led to today?"

I prepared myself to push my head deep into his chest and did not particularly care if I broke my nose in the process. "It was in 1905 and you wished to jump off of the Low Steel Arch Bridge and swim with the fish."

He stood still for a moment.

"Swim with the fish," he mused.

Then the plank was gone from underneath my feet.

* * *

Posted: June 24th, 2008.


	5. Too Fast, Two Furious, 1911

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: With this new chapter comes the realization that I live on reviews. Thank you all! And, oh my goodness, I'm so sorry for the length of this chapter. I finished it, looked at the word count, and all that came from my mouth was "darn." One more thing to note is that I think I've done the most research in my life (for a fiction work) for this chapter. It's fascinating.

* * *

III: Too Fast, Two Furious

**Indianapolis, Indiana 1911**

* * *

We were in New York, on our usual vacation with John's family, when we received a letter in the mail.

My husband had been outside making minor adjustments to his Ford T50 when the mailman had strolled by and handed him the letter, mistaking the Edward Cullen on its envelope to be that of my husband. In all actuality, it was addressed to my son who was at the local park playing with my cousin, Charles, and my friend of many years, John.

I, of course, had been preparing breakfast for everyone with Sally. I was in the process of mixing eggs when my husband rushed in, letter in hand.

"Elizabeth, look at this." He beckoned me over, but I did not budge as I looked over his figure. Assuming that I was already moving towards him, Edward took a seat at the dining room table and stretched his legs across the plastic covering.

He hadn't taken off his boots.

I clicked my tongue in disgust and walked over innocently enough, but not before tugging Sally by her apron. She was bewildered as I pushed her forward in front of my husband and pointed to where his feet lay.

Her moment of quiet understanding was shattered by a low hiss. My husband followed Sally's wide eyes to his boots and watched for several tense seconds as the droplets of dirt cascaded down through the leather crevices in the new design and dropped heavily on the seat covering.

Each new addition made Sally's mouth twitch slightly and I simply moved back, preparing for her uncontrollable fury. I knew it first hand; Sally Murdock loathed dirtiness and she extended this unwelcomed courtesy to the perpetrator in that given situation. The person in this case just happened to by my husband, who still sat, oblivious to the sudden hate that emanated throughout the kitchen.

I watched with bright eyes as Sally's head slowly turned to mine. Her lips, jutting forward, asked for my help.

"Get him out," she hissed and, surely enough, my husband heard.

His head turned to mine in complete naivety. I wanted so badly to reprimand him myself, but it was not my place to do so, and I hadn't seen one of Sally's tantrums since my son had spit on their carpet imported from India because he couldn't become a boy scout – and that was two years ago.

I nodded my head gravely and my husband, who had been watching us intently, decided to speak up.

"Sally, are you all right? You look a bit red in the face." He tapped his cheek and sent her a look of worry.

She exploded.

"Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out!" She continued to shout at Edward as he got up and left, his mouth agape and brows furrowed in complete misunderstanding.

I went back to the sink and took a wet cloth, giggling lightly to myself as I wiped up the remnants of his visit. Sally emerged from the door, out of breath and fuming, and then looked at me sourly.

"Why did you marry that infuriating man?" She asked, her eyes searching for a justifiable answer.

I smiled at her. "He loved me when I found it hard to love myself."

Sally's expression melted and she sent me a small smile in return. It wasn't hard to be a good friend to Sally; she was a naturally understanding person when it came to emotions.

When Edward, Charles and John had returned, breakfast was hot on the table. All the men had dug in greedily, excluding my son who had picked up his fork and cut the eggs nicely before plopping one in his mouth.

He caught me staring at him as he did this and grinned. "It's good," he said as he swallowed the bite of food.

"Thank you," I replied, taking my eyes off of him and staring at the letter which my husband had left on the table. Edward must have noticed because he put down his fork and reached for it. I let him take it since my husband had probably selfishly told him it was addressed to him, just for an easy way to hear what the sender had to say.

Edward was grinning as he tore the letter open. He let the pieces of paper land on the ground and I saw Sally pause with the fork halfway to her mouth. This elicited a small smile from me as my son's eyes raced through each paragraph of writing.

Everyone at the table was now watching Edward as he put the letter down and took the torn envelope up from beside his plate. His small hand reached in and grasped three small pieces of paper.

His green eyes widened for the slightest moment, and then suddenly he tore himself from his seat and began shouting.

"We're going to see The 500! The 500! Dad, we're going!" His chest was heaving as he passed his father what seemed to be a ticket. "Read it, read it!"

Sally and John sent confused looks to each other and I joined in their silent conversation. Charles simply sat there, smiling. He always seemed to know what was going on; he never had to ask questions.

My husband looked it over, dropped his fork, and bounded from his seat just as Edward had.

"These are reserved seat tickets to The 500 this weekend." His voice was hoarse as he said this, and I contributed it to the fact that this 500 they were speaking of had something to do with cars; my husband would only react this way if it did.

John whistled appreciatively and Sally slapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her with mock anger laced in his eyes, and laughed softly when he saw how lost we both were.

"It's the Indianapolis 500-Mile International Sweepstakes Race. They've finally decided to do one big race and this will be its first year. It's been in the newspaper lately to gain attention," he explained slowly.

"You're going to see a long car race?" I asked, feeling sad that the excitement of this event had blown right past me.

John grinned as he resumed eating. "No, apparently _your_ family is going to see it. What's the occasion, Edward?" He directed the question at both of the Edwards in the room, but my son was faster to respond.

"It's from Mr. Dickson and in the letter he said it was an early present for my tenth birthday."

"Sam Dickson from Chicago?" I asked, surprised and happy that someone other than my close circle of family and friends was thinking of Edward.

My husband answered. "Yes, probably. He's slated to be the mechanician for Arthur Greiner."

"So I guess that's who we'll be cheering for then." I smiled, watching Edward's eyes brighten with the implied acceptance of this trip to Indianapolis.

* * *

We had taken a nightly train ride to Indiana and were now at Union Station, waiting for another train to ship us off to the Indiana Motor Speedway.

We had had to buy tickets to this speedway on South Illinois Street, a task which was extremely difficult due to the disorganization of the lines. Stretching from the ticket sellers to the train sheds were massive amounts of humanity, all waiting impatiently to buy a ticket.

It was 6:30 in the morning and I was exhausted and aggravated. My husband understood this and kept his distance, but my lovely son did not and harassed me as we waited by the train shed for Edward to return with our tickets.

"Mother, how long does it take to get there?" He asked first, tugging on my yellow gown eagerly.

"I don't know," I replied, my eyes dreary as I tried unsuccessfully to move his hand.

"Are we going to make it on time?" He now had both his hands on my gown.

"I hope so."

"If we don't, are we going to get in?" He began pulling harder.

"I'm not sure."

"Do you know where we're sitting?" When did he become so strong? I felt the stitches of my dress begin to loosen. I had received this dress from Sally when she was an amateur seamstress and wore it today only because she asked politely and with underlying consequence if I refused.

"The ticket says the Grand Stands." I took out the ticket as I said this, to make sure I wasn't lying to him. Over the last few years, he would surprise me by frequently accusing me of lying to him every now and then – and he was always right in his accusations.

The first train had just moved out of its lot and had plans to return in thirty minute intervals to pick up passengers. The train we could see coming towards us was the first of the morning. As it pulled into the shed with a piercing screech, people began pushing bodies forward. The doors opened and many were rushing onwards, eager to get in before the train made its exit. I could see my husband hastening towards us with bought lunch boxes in his hands.

"Where are the Grandstands?" he asked as a particularly hefty woman came our way.

"They're in the Speedway." I rushed to answer as I pulled him out of the way and sent the woman a nasty glare.

"No, no, where in the _speedway_ are the _Grandstands_?" Edward, who had quickly positioned himself to resume his tugging on my gown, made a noticeably hard yank, and I heard my gown rip.

"Ask your father!" I said harshly, angry and frustrated at his onslaught of questions.

I instantly regretted it as he let go and stared at me, surprised. I bent down to ask for forgiveness at eye level when my husband came and lifted Edward to his shoulders.

"Let's go." I felt his hand on my back, forcing me to move quickly towards the train which was shaking with the sheer amount of people it held. We stepped on and wedged ourselves between a group of young males who were making snotty jokes and yelling across the area. I tried to ignore their jubilant cries as I looked out the window to see the second and third waves of people emerging with their newly purchased tickets.

As far as I could tell, the Union Station employees were having a hard time controlling the masses. Many people who refused to pay were rushing through, taking their chances with the law as they tried to board the trains via passenger windows. I was sure they must have been expecting the heavy traffic from days previous, but this was beyond what they were told. One could tell by the looks on their faces that they were clearly not ready for the onslaught of sport enthusiasts.

The train started to move and it was relatively quiet on board, with the exception of the young men who were persistent in making their presence known to everyone. I had a blistering headache and wanted to return to my bed in Chicago, but this was for Edward (_both_ of them) and I promised myself I would endure it for their sakes. Unfortunately, that promise was continually stretched as I found myself being pushed, shoved, yelled at, and stepped on by people who were trying to get out as the train came to a stop.

The group of young men went out through the car windows as the train was slowing down and a large group of distasteful adults were howling in anticipation of the event. Many had made homemade flags and were parading them down the gravel road, blocking cars and other vehicles that needed to reserve parking spots. It was especially unnerving to notice that it was barely 7:30 am when all of this was occurring, and the sun had just hinted its presence over the horizon.

The air was thick with excitement and morning mists from the surrounding grassy lands. We found ourselves in a line up that stretched from the opening gates to the turnstiles. The lineup was numbering a few thousand and gradually grew longer as the minutes ticked by. It seemed they were having a problem processing tickets at the turnstiles and many employees had to deal with children who couldn't afford the 2 dollars and 50 cents it cost to get a seat in the speedway. One older girl in particular, with extremely flawless pale skin and flowing black hair, was scaling a large tree by the southern bleachers.

I wrenched my eyes away from the magnificent sight to listen in on a loud argument behind me. Apparently the turnstiles had opened to let people in at 6:45 and one quarter of the northern bleachers were already filled.

Our section, the Grandstand, was wide with a large canopy overhead. It had several layers and benches from where I could see, and I was happy that Mr. Dickson had given us such preferential seating.

We were slowly being beckoned forward by the Speedway employees. My son was on Edward's back, looking around and grinning hugely at the sight before him. I caught a glimpse of a burgundy car being handled on the oval track itself, and figured it was one of the racing vehicles. The driver followed next and a lineup of mechanicians followed him. I could hear the cheers of the people already seated when the car was in clear view of their hungry eyes.

I was surprised to see many females in the crowd and, surprisingly, an employee kindly informed me that the male to female ratio was nearly the same. I myself was only the least bit interested because my family was, but it seemed that there were many women in these parts who could name every driver and their respective vehicle as a testament to their knowledge.

A woman who belonged in that particular category bolted past me, yelling a string of profanities for not having enough money to pay for the ticket. Tickets were usually 1 dollar, but they boosted the price to 2.50 because this event was 'big.' This was the main reason for the hold up, and I found myself pacing slightly as we slowly moved forward in line.

Both Edwards continued to look eager as we finally got up to the turnstiles. The employee smiled brightly at us when Edward paid our admission; we must have been one of the few who knew the cost and did not provide any trouble. He ushered us to our seats and my son nearly fell off my husband's shoulders when he saw where we were to be seating for the duration of the race.

"We're at the starting line!" He shouted while pointing excitedly at the white line marking the beginning and the big machine that I suspected would be calculating times as cars raced by. My husband nodded his head, just as excited, and we took our seats.

By then it was 9 o'clock and the north bleachers were bustling with people who made the air thick with shouts and laughter. The south bleachers were steadier, although the majority of the people sitting there were groups of men who brought beer to celebrate a race that hadn't begun yet. Our section was steadily filling up with people who also owned reserved spots. They were the quiet ones who kept their excitement contained and boiling until the race finally began to shape.

Edward, who had been waiting quietly, his hands on his knees and his eyes staring out into the crowd across the stadium, looked as though he was upset. I briefly wondered what could be bothering him, but decided to take him out of his dream state to ask.

"Edward, what's wrong?"

He turned to me and opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. He blinked a few times at me, tried to speak again, and stopped completely. My eyebrows rose in question and he frowned.

"You can tell me, you know," I whispered gently, so soft I thought that maybe he didn't catch it above the roar of the crowds. But he did hear and nodded quickly before opening his mouth again.

"I want a flag." His words came out hesitantly and this brought about a saddening realization.

He was afraid that I would yell at him again.

I frowned at this, but realized that I could reimburse my son if I could retrieve a flag for him. I told him I would get one for him after the race started; I didn't tell him that I was actually very interested to see the drivers try to take the lead at the beginning.

But then he smiled at me as though he knew I wanted to see the beginning, and I sighed. How in the world did he manage to do that?

I brought my eyes back to the beginning line where all the cars were lined up, five to each row except for the first and last cars. The whole speedway had gone eerily quiet as a red flag was raised by a man positioned on the starting line. I held my breath for that moment in time and leaned forward.

Both Edwards stared along with me and I hoped they spotted Arthur's vehicle. While in line waiting to enter the speedway, my husband had told me to look out for his yellow Mercedes because Mr. Dickson would be riding alongside Author as his riding mechanician.

I remembered this just as an employee made sure all the drivers were ready and that the race track was clear. Arthur's car was in the third row and I never took my eyes off as the red flag began waving.

Smoke rolled from each of the cars and an ear shattering skidding noise bounded off the canopy and rebounded through the crowd as the carts set off into their first lap. A fellow from Arthur's row had quickly taken the lead from the first bend, and the crowd on the other side screamed their hearts out as the distance between all the cars began to even out.

When the first car, a yellow Mercedes that my son told me was called 'The Wasp' passed us, both my husband and son stood up and began shouting exuberantly. The sudden movement from them beside me caused me to jump as well, but nothing came out of my mouth as the two women in front of us slid away awkwardly.

My eyes flickered over to a young boy who was flicking his wrist swiftly, his flag moving back and forth in a blur, and I realized that I had not gotten Edward a flag yet. I told both of their shouting forms that I would be right back and quickly got to out of my row.

I nearly tripped over my gown as I rushed to the entrance. I never would've guessed it, but I was becoming increasingly excited as the race progressed. Watching the cars move quickly past one another, swerving in and out, nearly bumping into the makeshift walls, caused me to brighten with anticipation and excitement. I too wanted to jump up and scream my adoration for Arthur Greiner and Sam Dickson, but that first time caused me to feel awkward and out of place, so I decided against it.

I approached the vendor and tipped my hat to him as I took out my change purse to pay for the flags.

"How much would one of those large ones be, sir?"

His greedy brown eyes looked me over appreciatively and he sent me an ugly one sided grin, revealing a yellow, chipped tooth in the process. I wanted to cringe away, but knew it was disrespectful and instead paid unnecessary attention to counting the money in my purse.

"They'd be five dollars a piece, ma'am," he drawled.

I took out ten dollars and handed it to him. He took his time picking out two large red flags for me, and I felt his greasy hand touch mine when I took them from him.

My thank you came out a little rougher than I intended and he hummed his response as I began to walk away. Throughout that entire interaction, I could hear the audience's screams and shouts. I had droned the sound out to the background, but the universal gasp and frantic screaming that came from the crowd as I returned was unavoidable. It shook my ears and rattled my senses and I stopped for a moment to observe what had happened. To my chagrin, the people in front of me were also satisfying their curiosity and I couldn't see what was going on.

I tried to spot my husband and son, but none could be seen above the raging masses that looked towards the track. I could still hear the cars zooming around the track, and I couldn't pinpoint what could arouse such a reaction from the crowd.

Suddenly, my ears tuned in to the cry of my son whose voice rose above all else. I found myself running, knocking over onlookers, pushing myself towards the area which the voice came from. What I saw crushed before me made my body slow down and my eyes widened.

Arthur's car had spun out of control (the skid marks were a tell tale sign) and car parts lay strewn across the track as other racers drove by. Both had been thrown from his vehicle, and I spotted Sam's body twenty feet away by a nearby fence.

After the last car still racing had passed by, hundreds of people rushed onto the track to observe more closely. I frantically searched for my husband and son, and spotted them making their way towards me. My husband held Edward in his arms, one hand under his legs and the other holding his head against his shoulder. I could hear the muffled whimpers of my son as my husband motioned for me to follow him. It was hard to get through the rushing mass of people going the opposite way, but somehow we found ourselves outside a short time later.

Edward was sleeping in my husband's arms by this time, and I used my hat to rub away the dry tears and perspiration that dirtied his face. His skin was soft under my touch, and I frowned when I rubbed the dirt off his lips.

Our walk to the station was a quiet one, only interrupted by a passerby who kindly asked us who was winning. He seemed to be late, but was eager to still catch what was going on.

"I'm not too sure, but they just started so hurry up," my husband said, and for the first time in what seemed like years, I heard his voice. It was strained, tired, and I could tell that he was trying to be strong for all of us, even though he had known Sam since he was a young boy growing up in Chicago.

Once we arrived at the train shelter, Edward took our son to the restroom. I waited quietly by the ticket booth, and took the time to reflect on today. I wanted to ask my husband what Edward had seen, but was afraid it would bring up tension and unwelcomed emotions. But I did fear for our son who was only nine, and had yet to see such a horrific incident. Was it so bad that he instantly knew Mr. Dickson was dead?

Edward came from the washroom a short time later. As he motioned for me to board the train with our son still asleep in his arms, he explained to me what happened.

"It was only the twelfth lap when Arthur's car lost a front wheel. It struck the wall and both men were thrown across the track. I couldn't see what happened to Arthur from where I was seated, but both of us…" – Edward stopped as a strangled sound tore from his throat – "both of us saw Sam's body hit the fence at least twenty feet away."

I listened quietly until he was finished and rubbed his back comfortingly as we took our seats on the train. Edward lay asleep on my lap and I used my other hand to push his curls behind his ear. I hummed a soft tune, one that my mother had sung to me when I was frightened, and my husband put his head on my shoulder. I rested my cheek on his crown, and we sat in silence for the trip.

When the train arrived in Union Station, I was reluctant to get off. We were all tired and just wished to sleep, and it was surprising and amazing to find Charles waiting there with the Ford.

"How did you know?" I whispered as my husband put Edward in the backseat and climbed in.

Charles looked from my son to me and shrugged. "It's a cousin's intuition."

I hugged him fiercely and my tears ruined his tailored suit, but he refused to listen to my immense apologies as we set off back to John's house.

I stared blankly out the window as the sky visibly darkened in preparation for rain. The clouds had rolled over the sky and were now heavy with water. The sun, of course, had disappeared and it seemed more like evening than only 1 o'clock. I turned my head slightly to check on both Edwards every now and then, and was thrown out of this ritual when my husband began to speak.

"You know what he said to me around the eighth lap?" he asked me.

Charles continued to drive as I thought about it. I came up with nothing and simply guessed.

"He wanted one of the cars?"

Edward smiled. "No, that would be me." I sent him a glance that told him not in this century, and he frowned but continued. "Edward said he wished to drive as fast as them one day."

I let that sentence roll around in my mind for a minute as I tried to wrap it around something that was possible for his age. But I could not, and instead settled for a shrug.

"I doubt he wants to drive like that now. I'm just afraid that when he wakes up, he'll be furious for not being able to watch the rest of it. I'm sure you'll be, too."

Charles took this as his time to chip into the budding conversation.

"Well, I'll just tell Sally to unearth the piano and you can play him a jolly tune."

I didn't want Edward to see such serious injury and become negatively affected by it all of his life. I wanted him to understand that Sam loved what he did, and that he wouldn't want us to cry for him every day for the rest of our lives.

So I decided that I would take him up on that offer of playing the piano – for the benefit of all of us and in memory of Sam Dickson.

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Posted: June 26th, 2008.


	6. Too Fast, Two Furious, Present Day

**Family Bonding**

By: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: Tomorrow is Canada Day. Celebrate with me by finding one fact about Canada and posting it in your review! I'll post them in my profile. I also think that everyone should check out TiffanyL's story under my favourites. She deserves more reviews for her impeccable portrayal of Edward!

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III: Too Fast, Two Furious

** Present Day**

* * *

I groaned as I flipped myself over on my bed. My stomach lurched uncomfortably at the unwelcomed force, and I closed my eyes to let the pain ebb away into a slight throbbing. I pulled the comforter closer to my body despite knowing that the temperature had run rampant in Forks over the weekend. It was blistering hot in my room, but I ignored the heat and tried to concentrate on slowing my heart to a believable sleeping pace. But I knew my efforts were futile; Edward would know I was faking the moment he stepped into the house. That was the reason driving my back up plan: Charlie.

My eyes wandered around the room as I tried to think of other ways to avoid Edward. It was only so long until they rested on the case which held the list I dreaded with a passion, and I groaned for a different reason when his second wish came to mind.

There was no way he could convince me to accompany him on this journey. I already had my fair share of fast driving and I couldn't fathom driving when he knew the objective was to drive as fast as possible. Just the mere thought made me shudder and I felt my heart throb painfully in my chest.

A sudden creak alerted me that someone was moving quickly up the stairs and I realized that I had given myself away by making my heart speed up.

It was two pairs of feet shuffling together and I briefly wondered how Charlie succumbed to Edward so easily.

"She's in her room, Charlie." It wasn't a question. I could hear his velvet voice increase in volume as he neared with my father close on his heels.

"She's not feeling well, Edward. I think you should leave her alone." Charlie croaked from behind him as a small shadow blocked the light coming through a slit in my door. They were at the entrance, probably staring at each other, and I figured that Edward was dazzling him – and it was probably working.

The silence dragged on for an eternity before Charlie mumbled something and I heard one set of footsteps retreating back downstairs. I groaned mentally as the door opened slowly and a pale figure stood in the doorway.

I glanced at him through one eye and positioned my body away from him, feigning sleep. My heartbeat would not agree with my lies and sped up dramatically as he stepped forward. Time stopped as I felt his cold hand on my shoulder, pulling me gently until my front was facing the ceiling on the bed. I was sure 

my sudden grimace did not escape his notice and I could have sworn I felt his smirk as he fixed the blanket on my form. My eyes were a dead giveaway as I tried vainly to keep them closed, but I felt the sudden urge, as I always do, to see his immense beauty and ogle for awhile. But I kept my regard strong and, although my heart continued to beat heavily against my chest, I let my breathing slow and convinced my head to loll to the side.

I felt a sudden weight on one side of my bed, and I figured that he could have either been sitting of kneeling - I couldn't tell. He was, however, mumbling a string of sentences and I failed to make a single word; that is, until he began reciting the words that always made me cry in Romeo and Juliet.

"O, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace." I felt his fingers on my arm, slowly sliding upward, and I felt the goose bumps begin to rise. I heard my breathing become erratic, but I was determined to stay asleep. "And, lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss, a dateless bargain to engrossing Death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide. Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!"

He had somehow shifted himself between his grief filled proclamation, and I felt his hot breath fan across my face. It was near to impossible to keep my eyes closed now, but I steeled them shut as my breathing went out of control. I wanted so badly to reach up and feel his face, put my hands through his hair, but I didn't move an inch as something cold touched base right under my ear.

"Here's to my love. O true apothecary. Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die!" His last words were a simple murmur that caressed my cheek. Then he captured my lips so fiercely that the force I used to open my eyes could have blasted away my eyelids.

I kept steady as his cold lips tormented mine, my will crumbling as his hands caressed my cheeks softly. His hair was a light tickle on my face and it sent me past the boiling point. I could no longer take it and decided to throw caution to the wind. I let my tongue run along his bottom lip and he let out a surprised groan as he tore himself away.

He staggered back and landed in the rocking chair. I lay in my bed, dazed beyond recognition, as my ears caught the faint string of profanities coming from his lips. I smiled to myself as I rubbed my tongue along my lips, but a sharp pain caused me to let out a small yelp.

"Damnit," Edward hissed as he stood up and rushed to my side. I turned to him in confusion and he smiled apologetically.

"This is why I draw lines in our physical relationship, Bella," he whispered, his voice suddenly teasing. I nodded dumbly as I tried to regain the feeling in my tongue by rubbing it along the walls of my gums. It was no use; Edward's venom has done its job and I was left with no feeling on the tip of my tasting appendage.

I sighed as I sat up to look him in the eyes. His face was teasing, but his eyes were sad as he watched me reach behind him to grab the case with his list. I stuck my tongue out playfully at him as I took out the slip of paper that donned the plans for the day.

I watched the tight line that was his mouth curl up into a smile as he observed what I was doing. His eyes seemed to twinkle with excitement; my eyes must have looked like dead light bulbs that were collecting dust.

I got up and ordered him to stay in my room as I took my human minute. He complied, turning into the heartbreaking statue in my room that made all of my other decorations rather envious. I changed slowly in the bathroom, trying to pause time so that I had enough of it to escape. But it was useless because I couldn't stand leaving Edward waiting, and I found myself back in my room faster than usual.

His rigidness melted once I returned and he took in my clothing, appraising me as I went to my closet to retrieve my bag. I could feel the blush on my cheeks and he chuckled when he saw how I nearly tripped over my lion slipper on my way to close the window.

I walked past him, turned the latch on the window, and looked back. He was still staring at the cute slippers, a torn expression on his face. I briefly wondered if he was thinking of eating them, and I giggled despite myself as I tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Ready?" I asked, slipping my warm hand into his cold one.

His expression shifted easily and he was grinning when he got up, tugging me to the door with him.

"Of course. Am I driving?" he replied.

I frowned as I thought of an answer. "Yes. . . "

He stopped to allow me to continue with my train of thought. I suppose he was used to waiting for me to answer because he couldn't read my mind, but then I realized that he was just hiding his emotion. If he wasn't, his face would have shown his impatience. Instead, he was composed as we waited at the top of the staircase.

"If I have to do this _thing_" – I said it with as much disgust as I could muster, and his smile widened – "then you can only drive on one condition."

He raised a delicate eyebrow at me, waiting for me to continue.

"You have to go at least 10 miles per hour under every speed limit."

He stared at me, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he pulled me down the stairs. He was silent, contemplating the validity of my ultimatum, no doubt, and it was hard not to ask him if he would agree or not.

We were nearly out the door when Charlie, who had been sitting and watching sports, called out to us from the living room.

"Bells, I made some orange juice, you want some?" He seemed proud of his achievement and I felt bad for turning him down.

"Sorry, my tongue is numb," I yelled back and stole a quick glance to see his face. It didn't fail to make me laugh; he looked a trifle shocked as Edward closed the door with more force than required.

* * *

Although Edward hadn't verbally responded to my condition, he obeyed it. His hands were tight on the wheel as we slowly progressed out of Forks to Seattle and I found the atmosphere to be tense as the car strolled along the streets.

I turned to Edward and saw that his face was impassive and it was then I decided to make for light conversation.

"What did you do with the fish?" I asked and grimaced when my voice resounded through the car as though I was yelling.

He turned to me slowly and his look questioned my sanity until it dawned on him what I was talking about. I could see the edges of a smile creeping onto his face and knew I brought up the right topic. His hands loosened on the wheel and I thought he was deliberating reaching for something. He decided against it and simply pointed to the backseat.

I looked back and nearly screamed.

He was watching my expression the whole time, and I scowled as he let out a small laugh. I positioned myself back properly in the seat and set a stern look on the road ahead.

"Bella, it's not alive," he murmured, his hand reaching out to lightly touch mine. I accepted the contact and reveled at the way his touch made me calmer.

"Did that crazy bungee jump coordinator do that for you?" I said venomously, and he frowned at my tone.

"You don't like it?" he responded, and the amused tone in his voice pushed me farther into utter despair.

"Where are you going to put it? It looks so. . . _unappealing._"

I turned to look at the glass case with a golden plate on its front and grimaced. My eyes were locked on the fish inside, suspended by gold chains, dead to the world, a souvenir for a new accomplishment by the person who could do everything.

"Bella, Bella," he sighed, tapping his thumb on my hand, "I'll find somewhere to put it at my house since you seem to dislike it."

I looked to him, my expression exasperated. "And what are you going to tell people when they visit? 'And if you look to your left, you'll find the fish that I caught when I went bungee jumping. I nearly dropped my fiancée in the process, but I did manage to catch such a magnificent specimen right as our flailing bodies retracted above the water!'" I ended my impersonation with a frantic wave in the air, and Edward chuckled at my obvious overreaction.

"You wouldn't have fallen," he pointed out.

"I would have," I bit out. Well, that's what it felt like.

"And the Cullen home doesn't get visitors often, so it's a moot point," he offered in a stern tone, and I decided not to pursue it further.

For the duration of the trip, I refused to look back lest the fish place its large, black eye on me In defiance.

When we arrived in Seattle, I directed Edward to _Michael's Motor Speedway_. Unfortunately, this speedway was located right off the highway and we were there in a matter of seconds, even with Edward obeying the 10 under speed limit condition. His grin was blinding as he parked the car. I wanted to dash for safety, but he held my hand (I couldn't figure out if it was to keep me with him or to show his affection) as we approached the office.

The man, conveniently named Michael, greeted us and brought us to the Speedway Classroom, where his friend and professional racecar driver Carl Edwards showed us the basics of racecar driving. Edward caught on quickly, excited and passionate, while I lagged behind, bored and terrified of the practical aspect to this expensive day package.

And alas, it arrived by early afternoon, my ticket to death. Carl referred to it as the final exam, and it felt more like a scene from Final Destination.

Carl was chatting with Edward about cockpit mechanics, and I faintly caught the words master switch and engine gauge cluster. Apparently he was showing Edward the inside of the cockpit and explaining each of the individual parts, and Edward was so engrossed that he failed to see me slowly inching away to the safety of the office where Michael watched from afar.

Unfortunately, keen Carl noticed and his loud voice alerted me and caused me to stop.

"Does your fiancée want to drive with you?"

I turned slowly and shook my head in the negative. Edward smiled at me. It was over.

"She agreed to participate in these events with me, so she'd gladly like to," Edward replied kindly to Carl, but loud enough for me to hear.

My feet felt like lead weights as I dragged myself back to the car. Edward and Carl were smiling together at me, but Carl's smile was not as menacing and beautiful as Edward's managed to be. I made my face impassive stone as I leaned into the cockpit to stare at all the controls.

The first thing I noticed was the immense heat. Every crevice and intricate part seemed to be emanating heat and my face felt the full force of it. I shot my head back and gasped for air as Carl chuckled behind me. Edward looked worried, but said nothing as Carl patted me on the back.

"Ma'am, I know you're eager, but I just need to explain some things to you first. . . ." He trailed off and motioned for me to stand beside him. He opened the passenger door I felt the remnants of heat simmer on my skin.

I tried to breathe properly as his hands went over all the controls and explained each one briefly. Only a few caught my attention. Firstly was the Ignition Kill Switch which turned off the engine in emergency situations. The name itself sent shivers up my spine, but I refused to be pessimistic as he continued.

The second item that caught my attention was the six-point seatbelt harness. It reminded me of Emmett's jeep, which failed to keep me grounded with Edward's erratic driving. My bottom began to tingle as I remembered how my body had been thrown around in the seat like a ragdoll.

Carl continued, checking to ensure that I was paying attention every so often, and my hand was on his shoulder when he said the next item.

"Does that say fire extinguisher?" I asked slowly.

Edward, who had been standing off to the side the whole time, peered from behind. I didn't turn around because I knew his telltale smirk would upset me.

"Yes, it does. Just hit the switch and it releases fire suppressing chemicals into the driving compartment." His words were smooth, and I knew then that he didn't understand my inner Dilemma. When did cars have fire extinguisher switches? Unless, of course. . . .

I nodded sagely as he finished his explanation. He briefly went into the mechanics of the car itself, how it was 'NASCAR certified' and was built specifically for regular persons to ride in it, even with the old passenger seat.

The next few minutes was devoted to a team of people strapping us in. Edward caught on quickly and was fastened in without much assistance. I, however, needed the whole team and then some to get all the switches in the proper place. At one point I tried to fit the neck restraint on my head, which nearly left me without a body until Carl personally fixed me up.

The car engine roared to life and Edward moved the car to the starting line, a large streak of red paint on the surface of the 1/3 oval track. My eyes were pinned open as the heat rushed into the cockpit, and I wished that I could simply eject myself and land in the ocean to cool myself off. I couldn't even touch Edward, who was abnormally cold, because the belts and buckles fastened me securely to my seat.

Edward's voice was muffled by the red helmet he was wearing, but I caught his words easily enough.

"What was my wish this time?"

The light on the side of the stadium, that had been flashing red for all this time, stopped blinking. The glaring brightness was terrifying as the engine hummed under us.

"You wanted to drive as fast as racecar drivers in the Indy 500," I mumbled pathetically.

I could feel the excitement rolling in waves off his body as the red light flashed to yellow.

"One more question, I promise. Does your condition apply here?" He was clearly pleased.

My eyes were entranced in the light which went from yellow to green. Time slowed as I saw Edward's leg reach forward to smash the pedal into the floorboard. I whimpered.

I never did get to answer his question that day.

* * *

Posted: June 30, 2008.


	7. Douceur de Vivre, 1913

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: This chapter is in Edward Senior's (Edward's father) point of view. Reviews, as always, are appreciated. If you'd like, you can check my profile to see what happened with this chapter.

Oh, and a Happy Independence Day to our southern neighbors! :)

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IV: Douceur de Vivre

**Chicago, Illinois 1913**

* * *

The sun had barely brightened the night sky when I woke up. I sat up slowly, working the kinks out of my back by stretching, and then turned to see if I had woken my wife up. But Elizabeth lay asleep, the portrait of an angel in the vast darkness, and I couldn't resist gently placing my palm on her content face.

She moved slightly and I smiled. The soft curls of hair framing her face shifted and she brought a hand up to move them out of her eyes. I helped her, although it was a sad excuse to lightly trace the contours of her prominent cheeks, but I was rewarded when she shivered and mumbled something faint against the silk of the pillow.

I wrapped the loose strands of hair behind her ear and bent down to kiss her cheek softly before I got up and quietly inched out of the room. The rough shuffling of my feet against the hard carpet should have easily woken her from her slumber, but she seemed to be in a far realm of sleep, probably dreaming of me. Well, I hoped she was.

I slowly made my way downstairs, careful not to disturb Edward who slept in his room. As I passed, I heard the faint snores he was emitting, their volume and length fluctuating rapidly. I couldn't hide my smile when I thought about where he got that trait from, and I was nearly laughing as I went to prepare myself a snack.

The kitchen was dark and dreary and when I turned on the light, the room seemed to whine in protest by causing the light to flicker. I ruffled the mass of hair on my head and yawned as I waited for the flickering to stop.

Eventually, the light ceased and the brightness covered every inch of the room. I entered and made myself a quick sandwich, wishing the whole time that I had let Elizabeth teach me how to cook something moderately tasty.

As I ate, I discovered how hungry I actually was. The sandwich was suddenly intoxicating, and I devoured it in a few bites. I yearned for more and my stomach agreed with its grumble, so I couldn't resist. I made another one, with twice as much ham and lettuce, and popped it in my mouth. I savored the taste as it went down my throat and I poured myself a glass of water to accompany the food.

I let out a small burp, satisfied of my meal, and made my way to where our baggage was. He hadn't unpacked yet since arriving back from our annual vacation with Sally and John, so our baggage still lay untouched in the dining room.

The room was just as dark and I was too lazy to turn on the light switch. I tried to make my way through the dark, cursing the sun for not coming up a little quicker, and I was reimbursed with a nice newspaper that lay in the middle of the floor. I heard the distinct crunching of paper by my foot, and then I was thrown off my feet. I landed ungracefully with a loud thud on the floor.

I groaned in pain and rubbed my bottom. Suddenly the room was illuminated and I heard a breathless laugh escape someone's lips. I craned my neck to spot the intruder and I was surprised to see a very amused Edward standing by the door.

"You'd be a pretty bad thief, Dad," Edward said as he approached. I laughed as I took his outstretched hand and he helped me hoist myself back to an upright position. He shook his head at my sheepish expression and ushered for me to explain what I was doing.

The kid was only thirteen yet he had more maturity than I could account for in my entire existence. I wanted to sigh at my excuse of a life. Although I was a lawyer and had a beautiful wife, male pride wouldn't allow me to accept having a son who was good at everything. Sure, I loved him, but did he have to destroy my knowledge-based reputation with his words alone?

I motioned my eyes to the sofa across from me and he sat down fluidly. I should have known, but his cleanliness still caught me by surprise as I looked him over. He was already in his morning wear, hair combed but in the casual disarray that he acquired from me, and emerald eyes sparkling with amusement at my expense.

I wanted to slap myself for not being the proper father figure at the moment; I looked like I had just gotten up and gone downstairs. In fact, he probably knew that I had just gotten up and gone downstairs. I would have scowled at my negligence, but he was watching me intently. My fingers, which had been placed together in deep thought, relaxed under his gaze.

"Since when were you self-conscious?" His words sliced through the silence, and I found myself staring at him in utter surprise as I thought it over. I never did understand what Elizabeth meant when she said it was 'as though he could read minds.' Now I felt I was beginning to catch the fragments he threw at me.

"How do you do that?" I asked him, scratching my chest. I realized the action made me seem more like a Neanderthal than a modern human, and I immediately stopped.

"Do what?" he asked innocently, although his smile was bright in the gathering light.

"Can you read minds?" It was straight forward enough.

His smile turned somewhat crooked, and then he flashed his teeth in a grin. I narrowed my eyes at him, about to say something that would make sense of the whole situation, when he laughed at me.

He laughed at me.

"What?" I growled, standing up to defend my now asunder pride. He stood up also, the crown of his head barely reaching mid-chest, and glanced up at me. His eyes were probing as he looked into mine, and I suddenly wondered if he was using some sort of witchcraft to read my thoughts.

"People can't read minds," he stated matter-of-factly, and his smirk of accomplishment was not lost in my stare. He laughed as he sat back down, and I hesitantly followed. This boy would be the death of me.

"So how do you –?" I trailed off suggestively, hoping that he would catch the purpose of the question I couldn't put into words and answer truthfully.

He thought it over for a brief moment as he looked out the window. I followed his gaze and saw the mailman approaching with today's newspaper. I was watching the mailman struggle with the package when Edward began speaking. His words were a whisper, which meant he was hesitant to tell the truth.

"I don't know. I can't _read_ minds. I just. . . can analyze your actions. These eyes," he pointed to his bright eyes as he spoke, "see things that other people don't."

I was silent as I let those words flow freely in my mind. "See things? In your mind? So, just then, when you asked me if I was self-conscious –"

"Yeah, but I mean seeing in the literal sense. Somehow I see actions, the slightest move people make - a twitch, a smile, a glare, and I could tell what you're thinking about. You may see a grimace and assume that Mom is disgusted, but I somehow know that she's been afraid of bugs her whole life. I'm not sure if she's actually thinking that, but I know it's the truth. In your case, your intertwined fingers would have told someone that you were concentrating on something very hard. But they just told me you were comparing yourself to me and losing," he smiled when I scowled, "and I just wanted to comfort that feeling."

My scowl faded into an apologetic frown as I watched his face for any extra explanation that he wasn't willing to express through words. His face, though, was composed and all I found was a boy who was struggling with other people and the constant onslaught of their unexpressed feelings.

So we sat like that for a long moment, gazing at nothing, both thinking about his confession and trying to unravel the tight coil of the unknown. But, after all of this, I couldn't think of Edward as strange. He was my son, granted with something under the grace of God, a talent, power, whatever it may be that he could use to understand the world a little better than the rest of us did. So I wouldn't look at him with a suspicious or accusatory eye, for I understood that what he had was special and not for me to judge because I didn't understand.

As a father, I was eternally grateful to Elizabeth for enduring nine months of growth to harbor this child. He was truly the light of our world – Edward Anthony Masen was a boy who had dreams we were more than willing to fulfill. And then I was overcome with thoughts of his future. He would grow up, mature even more than he was now, and become a man. He would live his life, pursue his passion, and eventually find another half. He would become old, grow - because that's all humans can do with the time we have-, and look at life with the wise eye of someone who has seen enough to tell a wonderful story to his children. He would die and he would join us in heaven.

My family's life and hopes were all that mattered to me at that moment; I was a man, the protector of the family, and the father figure to my only son. If I failed in that duty, what purpose did I serve?

My gaze, which had been at directed at the crumpled newspaper of my fading pain, slowly drifted back to Edward. His head was down, and his bronze hair cast rays from the sun which now was suspended in the early morning sky. He was mumbling under his breath. I was curious what he was thinking about, and I asked him. He was even more hesitant to respond this time; his eyes were downcast as the words slowly rolled off his lips.

"Dad, I wanted to ask you something," he said, barely loud enough for me to hear, but I did.

"Shoot."

He looked up at me, his eyes penetrating as he watched for my reaction. "What's the feeling called when your stomach tightens painfully?"

I gave him an odd look. "Passing a kidney stone?"

Edward's green eyes widened, and then he glared at me. What did he expect? I had no idea what he was talking about.

"No. . . when you see someone."

I shook my head, clearly missing his point. "Is someone stalking you?" I knew he was too handsome for his own good.

Edward sighed and shot a frustrated hand through his hair. I watched him as his eyes scanned the room in a vain attempt to rephrase his words.

"Just explain the situation," I offered.

He muttered something under his breath and I caught the words 'slow' and 'embarrassing.' I motioned with my hand for him to hurry up, as I could hear feet pacing above us. My wife was up, and this was Edward's last chance to talk to me in private before she arrived.

"Her name is Ann. She's our neighbor."

Ah, so that was what he was getting at. I wanted to laugh, but knew that his feelings were fragile. Instead, I felt the urge to throw my arm over his shoulder and lead him into a first love talk, but I decided not to do that either.

I hummed my acknowledgement and told him to sit beside me. He obliged easily enough although his body was stiff as he plopped himself beside me. I patted his head and I was sure he was clenching his teeth in restraint. He hated being treated like a child, but I figured this was moment deserved a childish act.

"You like her, eh?"

"No," he refused quickly, lying of course, and my eye caught sight of the small blush staining his cheeks. I laughed. He scowled as he glared at me.

"Well, there's a technique I can teach you that will woo a lady."

His scowl morphed into a tight line of confusion as his eyes searched my face. I grinned and reached behind me. My hands grabbed hold of a picture frame and I brought it in front of us. It didn't hold a picture; instead, there was a drawing of a few clouds and the sun, cast high the sky, seemingly larger than the paper itself, shining brilliantly in the quiet backdrop of rolling hills and plains.

"Heaven?" Edward asked as his fingers slowly traced the mahogany frame with fascination. I chuckled lightly as I placed the frame back on the table.

"No, it was a picture Elizabeth drew for me." He stared at me, confused. I continued. "She was twenty years old and was becoming a musician. She once told me that musicians and artists bring life and visual explanation to the world around them. She said that when I smiled at her the day I went to pick up my defendant who was also a violinist, she couldn't contain the sudden emotion she felt. And I was only smiling because her piano playing sounded so beautiful. But she told me she drew that night, and that was the picture she gave to me the next day. When I asked her what it was, she told me it was my smile. I didn't get it at first. But I eventually did, and I couldn't stop myself from falling for her and her music."

Edward listened intently throughout my whole explanation, but said nothing when I was finished. I was about to ask him if he wanted something to eat because I knew he hadn't gotten anything since he woke up, but he finally responded before my mouth opened to ask.

"So I should draw her pictures? She's moving in a few days, so it's useless anyway."

I heard his gasp of surprise when I ruffled his hair. He tried to look up at me, but I pushed him away as I got up. He complained and followed me into the kitchen where Elizabeth now was, cooking a late breakfast.

"Elizabeth, tell Edward the title of that drawing in the dining room."

Elizabeth sent both of us an odd look and wiped her hands on her apron. She approached cautiously, poked me on the chest, and bent down to fix Edward's messy hair. She clicked her tongue in distaste as she eyed me again, but was smiling as she set the plates on the table.

"I titled it Douceur de Vivre."

"Why?" Edward asked, intrigued as he sat at the table.

Elizabeth wiped the counter with a cloth and then turned around, leaning against the marble and looking at our son with a strange look in her eye. Of course, I couldn't tell what it was, but Edward probably knew with his whole mind reading thing.

"That day I had to write a piece to accompany the orchestra playing at the local theatre. I sat at home trying to form a song on the page, and all that plagued me was that man's smile. Instead I wrote a song, soft and sweet, and drew that picture on the back of it. The title came from my frustration; it was either I call it Frustration or Douceur de Vivre for the effect this new feeling had on me. I liked the latter much better. It's a French proverb that my music teacher told me, and it described my feelings perfectly. "

Edward sat, deep in thought, and I decided to contribute to the pivotal conversation.

"So, if you want to get the girl, you've got to dazzle her."

Edward's head swiveled around and watched my lips as they curved up into a cocky smirk. He frowned then turned back to Elizabeth. No more words were exchanged through the duration of breakfast, and I was upset by this. Edward should have been jumping for joy with this newly gained knowledge - an epiphany of sorts. Yet he was quiet and inattentive throughout the whole meal, only glancing from his plate once to see if there was any food left.

With breakfast finished, I went upstairs to get ready for work. It was tedious finding my cuffs which I misplaced quite frequently, but Elizabeth emerged later from the washroom and found them for me. She helped me button up my collar and shined my shoes while I rummaged around for my hat.

After I gathered all my clothes, Elizabeth called me to our room. Edward was downstairs, probably looking at the other side of the picture to see the piano music. She was standing by the window when I entered, looking out onto the street below.

I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her slender waist, brining her close to me. Her smell invaded my senses; it was sweet because of the honey she used with breakfast. I felt her body melt against my embrace, and she placed her head in crease of my shoulder blade as she spoke.

"He's so young." Her words were laced with a sadness that I could only contribute to the fact that he was growing up so quickly. I rubbed comforting circles on her side as I spoke my response by her ear.

"I know. I see it too."

She breathed deeply and turned herself around, placing her hands on my chest as she leaned forward to press her lips to mine. I was more than willing to comply as I leaned forward to lesson her effort. She was so soft, fragile, and her kiss was filled with love beyond my comprehension. So I kissed her back with fervor, my lips moving against hers sinuously, our passion burning with each passing moment.

She was hesitant as she broke away and there was a dazed look in her eye that told me that there were better things to do than go to work. But we both knew it had been a while since I was seen in the office, and I needed to get back to work to keep this family here.

She kissed my cheek softly and settled her face against my chest as her arms wrapped around me, returning my welcoming embrace. I smiled into her hair as I closed my eyes and listened to the words that were muffled against my chest.

"Edward says that he will dazzle the woman he loves." I could nearly feel her smile against my waistcoat.

"He'll probably dazzle the poor girl every day," I replied, and she chuckled softly.

It was silent as she brought her lips to mine one time before quickly releasing. The moment was pure bliss, and I continued to feel elated as I followed her to the staircase. She stopped at the top and looked back at me before whispering,

"But he says he wants to dazzle her on a specific date."

"And that date would be?" I gently inquired as she slowly descended the steps with me in close pursuit.

"On their wedding day," she said as she brought her wedding ring up to her lips to kiss it. I grabbed hold of her hand and brought it to my lips and her smile set off my own.

Edward's wife would be one lucky woman.

* * *

Posted: July 4, 2008.


	8. Douceur de Vivre, Present Day

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: This chapter is in Edward's point of view. Reviews, as always, are appreciated. If you find mistakes: grammar, punctuation, plot-wise, et cetera, please continue to point them out! I have some major editing to do once I am finished this story.

By the way, you know what was actually a pretty funny movie? Step Brothers. It comes out this Friday, (07/25/08) so you should check it out.

Oh, and there is significance to the old woman in this chapter. :) Enjoy.

* * *

IV: Douceur de Vivre

**Present Day**

* * *

If chefs could pull off such flawless plates of food in a mere hour, then surely it should have been easy for me to catch on. What mistake could I have made? I had done everything perfectly, yet the slab of food in front of me resembled more of a carcass from my diet than food from hers. This was preposterous.

There had never been an immediate need or requirement for my culinary expertise, but I had learned quite a few recipes on Bella's behalf and out of mild curiosity. Of course, none of those were appropriate for this evening's plans, and I only had a confined timeframe to learn and create something new. The chef of the television made it seem _effortless_. I should have been able to pull it off in the hour it took. If only those chefs on that generic television could be here to tell me what I was doing wrong.I had followed each instruction down to the amount of diced tomatoes (fourteen and a half ounces). Despite all of my careful planning, the food in the pan looked nothing like the Mushroom Lasagna Alfredo my mind had pictured.

I glanced warily at the wall clock outside the kitchen. I had been living for much too long to be worrying about time moving too quickly, yet I felt myself contemplating buying a dinner from a restaurant in Seattle. I did not have enough time to fix my little mistake with the meal and I needed to attend to other matters of importance before the night made its unwelcomed appearance.

I was scowling as I I picked up the tray, and my scowl deepened at the sound the food made as it landed in the garbage bag. It was not a sound that thrown out Alfredo should have been making; I was probably salvaging Bella's life by not letting her indulge in my creation. I hoped she would not be disappointed when she found out I was not exactly the best at everything.

With my scowl still in place, a growl rumbled deep within my chest as Emmett appeared at the door. I craned my head slightly to examine him with my eyes, hoping he would understand that my glare meant for him to keep his mouth shut. I could hear his innate laughter as it bounced off the walls, and my hand was itching to wipe the look of pure enjoyment at my expense off his face.

_You've been watching Food Network for hours, and you still couldn't do it right? Bella may need a new boyfriend. _ His face suddenly morphed into one that seemed as though he caught himself making a horrible mistake. I narrowed my eyes. _Oh, I mean fiancé. But not for long though._

I turned to face him fully, taking in the large form that was overwhelming the entrance, and the laughter that was overwhelming my senses. I growled again and rolled my eyes as I tied the bag. The action caused me to spot the package of eggs sitting abandoned in their carton, wishing to be made of some use.

My hand reached for them in such a swift motion that two eggs were hurling towards his face as his laughter abruptly stopped. His hands went up reflexively to grasp them in his hand, and the distinct crunching sound that was made with contact was deeply satisfying in my ears.

"What the hell!" Emmett swore as his other hand wiped yolk from his cheek. I smirked, tipping my head to the side in mock innocence, and widened my eyes.

Emmett growled fiercely and stepped forward, jutting one hand out for me to accept his challenge. His fingers curled slowly as they beckoned me closer, but I could not take it seriously, as his face was covered in yellow and white. My smirk became more pronounced as I stepped forward to meet him, hand to hand, with a nasty observation on the tip of my tongue. He was preparing to lunge at me with his soiled hand when an angry voice hissed an order from the doorway. Emmett halted and turned slowly to find Rosalie standing in the doorway, a hand on her hip, with the usual look of anger on her face that I saw whenever I was with Emmett.

_Stupid fools, they are always making a mess. _ Her eyes quickly scanned the mess of egg on the floor, coupled with the pasta sauce that had spilled when Emmett moved forward. Her eyes slowly met my narrowed ones, and she eyed me with obvious distaste. _Edward, why are you so immature? Who throws eggs at people?_

Her rant was cut off as another presence entered my mind. I watched an amusing scene unfold before me.

"I'll assume those questions are rhetorical, and take them in stride. And you're about to be hit with an egg, Rosalie," I replied smoothly, hiding my smile with a grim line of annoyance.

She watched me suspiciously, and then her face changed within a fraction of a second from irritation to contemplation. She bared her perfect teeth and swore haughtily under her breath, swiveling on one foot and hauling Emmett out of the room. It was no surprise when her free hand shot out to grab what seemed like nothing, although everyone knew it was Alice zipping by to retrieve her weapon.

Rosalie hissed in frustration and abandoned Emmett, who stood there dazed as her nearly invisible form bolted up the stairs.

_I've always wanted to do this_ was Alice's joyful exultation as she seem to disappear from the room. My hearing caught her running up the stairs into Rosalie's and Emmett's bedroom. Alice was smaller and quicker, and Rosalie's scream tore through the house as Alice cornered her. I smiled in satisfaction. Emmett stared at me.

_What just happened?_ Then I could see him building scenarios in his head involving eggs and Rosalie - some of which were disturbing.

"See for yourself," I said as I walked past him to throw the garbage out. I could feel his eyes on my retreating figure, and instantly I was aware that he was trying to figure out if I was luring him into a trap. I was not. Alice was.

Unfortunately, that incident seemed to be the most eventful for the entire afternoon. After that, I had dropped by the flower shop and I was now driving in Seattle, partly looking to see if I could spot Bella and her friend Angela, and partly looking for a nice restaurant to buy take out.

The voices in my head were just hushed conversation as I passed the mass of shoppers lining the sidewalks. Occasionally, my eyes would scan for Bella and I would hone in on a seemingly relevant thought, but I did not see her and no one had anything useful to think.

My thoughts, however, drifted to many different subjects although I tried not to dwell on the usual. I suffocated the persistent Jacob centered ones, especially the particular invitation to our wedding, but they were fierce in their pursuit. The wedding was only a week and a half away, and I knew Bella had been thinking of him the whole time.

But Alice could still see the wedding, which meant that no werewolves were planning to make appearances.

My thoughts moved elsewhere, now fishing for memories of my wishes. Since Bella had started that daunting task of fulfilling each of them, I had been trying - with much difficulty - to remember the situation behind each circumstance. I had yet to remember anything important; it was mostly just pop ups of certain scenery and the occasional loving voice.

She would not tell me how many wishes were on that list, so I was a little more than worried when she vehemently refused to tell me the next wish. I was surprised when she told me that she would be skipping over this one; it made it seem all the more important and my curiosity was peaked.

Unluckily, even with my attempts at so-called 'dazzling' the information out of her, she would not relent. I accepted defeat at that point, but I was far from giving up permanently. I knew how self-conscious she was, so it was obvious that the wish was something for her_._ She had given herself away when she said she was focusing on me for all the wishes (since it was my gift), and that this one did not fulfill that sole requirement.

I figured that if she would not let me hear of this wish, I would have to initiate it myself. I only had suspicions of what the wish entailed, but it was a list from my human life; I must have said something that caught her off-guard. She had no idea of course, and I would have been quite excited if I wasn't already being excessively paranoid about the time and lack of it.

An eternity seemed to become measurably shorter whenever Bella was involved. I had never been bound by time in such a way, but now I found it to be the most daunting intangible feeling of man. Regardless of the situation or the circumstance, I always found myself wishing to speed up or slow down the hands of time. In all of my existence, I had never contemplated how time affected me, since I had always assumed that there was too much to contemplate. Now it was caught within human terms, and it was a wasted effort trying to ignore it.

The day was the regular overcast as I helped an old woman with her groceries. I was driving by, looking to see if I could spot Bella around this area when I saw the poor woman struggling with her bags of food in the parking lot. Time was moving much too quickly for my liking.

She was one of the last people occupying the store's parking lot, and I parked my car near hers as I quickly scanned her thoughts to see if she was suspicious. As I emerged from the Volvo and offered to help, she was thinking other things - many which I was accustomed to.

_He's so stunning, but I don't need his help. Well, maybe I do, and he seems so sweet. Maybe I'll just get him to carry one bag. . . ._

We strolled in stride to her vehicle, seven bags in my hand and the carton of eggs grasped determinedly in hers. I had droned out her thoughts, but the lack of movement beside me brought them back to life. The woman had slowed her steps until we were both barely moving.

I already knew where her car was, but she had not told me verbally, so I had to continue following her. _He's probably late for something important, I can tell. John should have come with me, that stupid man! 'Football game,' my dentures. I am not that dumb. The Roughriders don't play until Tuesday._

I had the urge to remind her politely that they were playing today and she was simply referring to last week's game (Emmett had been determined to drill the whole season's schedule into my mind), but I kept my thoughts to myself as we continued walking at an extremely slow pace. I was quickly becoming irritated, but I knew it was not well placed. This feeling was not the woman's fault; I was just putting too much thought into this night. I wanted it to be perfect, but I would much prefer if Bella was happy than upset at my tendencies. I had to stay collected, lest this woman suffer for my lack of control.

We finally reached the beige Mercedes and she popped the trunk.

_What is he staring at? Oh._ I felt her eyes on me as she rearranged the bags I had placed in her trunk in a certain order. I turned to smile at her and her frail body seemed to twitch in response. She blinked once, as if trying to clear her vision, the layers of skin framing her cheek straining with the effort, and then turned her attention back to me.

"I got it when I was in New Jersey. Their state bird must be the mosquito; I found them so annoying. I've hated bugs all my life, you know." She chuckled and we both turned to look back at the large sticker framing the roof of her trunk.

Two-legged creatures we are supposed to love as we love ourselves. The four-legged, also, can come to seem pretty important. But six legs are too many from the human standpoint.

I stood there, racking my mind for the elusive memory tugging at the edges. Either her words or the quote was bringing up something important, but regardless of the source, it was nerve-wracking. My mind went through all the thoughts I could remember in the past few days, but nothing seemed remotely close to the feeling in the back of my mind.

I read the quote again, and was surprised when certain words stood out more than others did. For one, human seemed vital, but that could have just been a figment of my imagination since I was known for noticing the human in everything. The other, however, was not something I was as acquainted with, and it brought my confusion to another level.

It was creature. For some unexplainable reason, I could not tie it to human, thus it was not related and held a different meaning - a separate context. But the memory was as persistent as I was, and I could not grasp it long enough to decipher what it was.

_Is he going to stare forever? It's been five minutes. I don't mind though. He's so handsome. I wonder if he has a girlfriend. Ann needs to get her eyes off her books and onto something like him._

The memory tugged harder, and I tried to ignore it. To calm myself, I sighed deeply and looked at the old woman. She sent me a shy smile and I smiled in acknowledgment, feeling oddly detached as I bid her farewell and approached my vehicle. I could not pinpoint the memory, but I knew something would set it off. It was just a matter of time.

Something which, despite the meaning of forever, I didn't have enough of.

* * *

She looked so beautiful.

Her face was pale in the dim light of the doorway and her expression was stunning. She was smiling tentatively, her eyes alight with a mixture of joy and shock she could not express through words. Her friend, that nice girl Angela, must have been observant. No doubt, Bella had told Angela that I had asked her to go out and have fun today and she had deciphered it well.

She was wearing a sea blue summer dress, delicately open at the back and in large strips down her legs. Her pale skin matched perfectly with the color and the blush that adorned her face as she took in my expression made me want to reach for her. But it was selfish act, and this day was devoted to her wishes, not mine.

"Bella, you look stunning," I commented as she hesitantly made her way forward. Her head snapped up and she stared into my eyes. She looked as though she was trying hard to understand the situation, but her thoughts gave nothing away.

She was dazed as she approached the round table in the centre of the great expanse of space in my home. She opened her mouth to say something, but it hung agape for a few seconds before she realized it was inappropriate. She shut it with an audible snap and a rosy blush colored her cheeks.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said sotto voce. Her eyes scanned my figure and her mouth hung open slightly once more.

I stepped closer, being careful not to touch her - practicing my self-control - and I slowly pulled out the chair for her to take a seat. She eyed me with the same dazed expression before settling down shakily. I allowed myself a small smile as I took a seat across from her. I could not tear my eyes away from her as I watched her eyes admire the table and the overall setting. I remembered how she had liked the setting at her house when I had done this before, and I imitated it to the last candle burning in the center of the table.

We sat in thoughtful silence before she decided to ask what I had been dreading. She had been staring at the food on the plate for a while, and I knew it was unavoidable. But when it came from her soft lips, I couldn't help but cringe slightly.

"You didn't make this, did you?" she asked slowly, her eyes peeking through her bangs that had covered them to watch my reaction. I smiled, caught, and reached over to pick up a lone string of spaghetti dangling off the edge of her plate.

"Is it that good?" I teased, and then placed a part of the strand on my tongue. It felt strange, foreign, but I slowly chewed it, watching her the entire time.

She made a cute squeaking sound as she fumbled with her fork. Her eyes retreated to her food. I could see her peeking up to watch me finish the food with a darker blush on her cheeks. She always found my eating fascinating, but this was one of the only times she blushed that deeply because of it. It would be such a waste to tell her how I would have to get rid of it.

After a few more seconds, she straightened and pushed her plate towards me. She let out a long breath, and I was surprised at the emotion I felt when I heard the shaky edge in it. I eyed her curiously when she rolled her fork in her napkin and stood, bracing the table shortly for support.

"Follow me," she said calmly, her voice betraying nothing as she strolled off to the kitchen.

I did as I asked, although I was a bit confused when I entered to find her with an apron on, tying her hair back into a neat bun. The apron was similar to the dress in a way that it left her back exposed, and the creamy skin revealed made the muscles in my stomach clench. I ground my teeth together and looked away for a moment, composing myself, and then turned my attentions to where she was standing. When she saw me in the doorway, she smiled and beckoned me to come closer. An eyebrow rose in question and she laughed softly before coming towards me.

I stood perfectly still, stone in her capable hands as she wrapped her arms around me. Her embrace was comfortingly warm and I could feel each pint of blood as it coursed through her. She smelled like freesia, as usual, and I remembered the flowers in the car. I wanted to retrieve them, but her warm body against my cold one was much more enticing. She placed her cheek on my chest, inhaling deeply before letting go. She looked up at me.

"Edward, I know you want to do something for me, but I just can't let this go," she said softly, reaching for my hand and pulling me towards the counter. She did not nearly have enough strength to nudge me, but one little tug and I was following obediently.

"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly, although my voice came off a little harsher than I intended.

"Edward. . ." she said as she tapped her lips thoughtfully. She was leaning against the cool marble of the counter, I in front of her watching her intently. "You can't cook," her pupils shifted as she remembered something. "Well, you can, but it's unnatural for someone to watch the Food Network and spend hours on a thirty minute recipe."

I chuckled. Alice must have somehow tipped her off. "There are many unnatural things about me, Bella." I tapped my head for emphasis and she stuck her tongue out at me childishly. I felt my lips curling into a grin as I grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her back to me. Her squeak was lost in my sweater and I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the way she had done in her embrace. I felt her muscles loosen and I began to rub circles on her back. She must have been cold because she shuddered when I brought my hand up to cup her face. Her breathing had become more pronounced, and I smirked as I dipped my head lower to peer into her eyes.

My words were nearly spoken into her mouth; we were so close. "Love, you seem to underestimate how much you mean to me. I have tried my best to make this evening special for you, and you tempt me by always trying to help _me. _Why, I will never know. But Bella, this is tonight, and we are alone, so just let me cater to you."

She stared into my eyes for a brief second, looking from one to the other, before she did something that caught me off guard. Her hands, which were on my shoulders, moved to cup my face and she stood on her tiptoes. Her eyes dared me to move away, but I was captured by their intensity as she brought her lips up to mine. Her lips suddenly met mine eagerly and I was overcome with her presence.

I tried to take hold of the control I had so carefully built for this evening, but it was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was her taste, smothering me and making my thoughts take a darker turn. Her taste was the same as the spaghetti I had tried earlier, but there was a hint of something else and it was driving me wild. And her heatbeat, usually a little faster than normal, was thudding madly in my ears.

She continued to move her mouth sensually against mine and my lips tingled at the warmth. I slowly pushed her so that her back was against the marble of the counter. She gasped lightly at the sudden coldness and I closed my mouth over hers to make her more comfortable. I willed myself to push back, to retreat from her advances, but as her teeth grazed my bottom lip, I became hyperaware of the warm skin calling out to me, the blood singing, rushing rapidly through her veins, the hands moving eagerly from my face to my chest and the scent of her as it intensified.

I felt her tongue trace along my lips and I groaned into her mouth. That only willed her further and I felt her shaky hands slithering under my sweater to the cold skin beneath. My stomach contracted with her touch, and I knew I was losing control too quickly. When she yielded for a moment for air, her shaky breath fanning my face, I let my lips trail along her jaw to her ear. I gently tugged her hands from under my sweater and her mewl of protest caused me to pause momentarily. I was surprised at how strained my voice sounded as I put my lips up to her ear.

"Bella, why do you do this? Why are you so eager?"

I held her arms in place as she rested her head on my hard shoulder. It must have been uncomfortable, but she showed no signs that she was. We stood like this for a moment, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, and her breathing becoming normal again.

"Why can't I enjoy the wine while resisting the bouquet?" she whispered jokingly although I could detect a slight hysteric edge to her voice.

I chuckled as I let go of her arms to look into her eyes. They held a look that made my self-control deteriorate even further, so I diverted my attention to her words. I scowled, but distracted her by playing with a loose strand of her hair.

"You're not really trying to resist the bouquet, are you?" I asked conversationally, although she knew the undertones that were implied. She simply smiled at me, the nymph, and pecked me on the cheek. She slipped out from between the counter and myself and made her way over to the refrigerator.

I frowned as she rummaged through the fridge, wondering why she had not responded. What was she thinking? I approached her and peered over her back to see what she was looking for, trying very hard not to stare at the her perfect skin as I did so. She stiffened as she felt me there, watching her, but continued to stay silent as she pulled out a container of parmesan cheese. The fridge only contained the items I had bought for my meal today, so it should not have taken her so longer to find it. She must have been trying to get away from me.

Her movements were careful, calculated, as she sauntered back to the counter with the other materials. She placed the containers on the table, and they clattered against the marble. My eyes saw her fingers shaking as though she was scared, and I followed her to the oven. She was reaching for to turn it on when I placed my hand over hers. I felt her hand stiffen at the contact, but she quickly let it loosen in hopes I would not have noticed. I did, however, and the tight line of my lips morphed into a frown.

"What's wrong?"

She let out a deep breath. "What were you trying to make?" she responded evasively, slowly pulling her small hand from my grasp and heating the oven to 375 degrees.

"Bella," I growled, reclaiming her hand once more. She swiveled to face me, and my eyes widened as they took in the tears prickling her eyes. She blinked furiously to let them escape and watched me for my reaction. I stayed calm and intertwined my fingers in hers.

"Why?" I mumbled tenderly, putting my finger under her eyelid to wipe away the trapped moisture.

Her eyes were downcast as she mumbled her response. I usually would have told her to look at me, to see her vulnerable face and decipher what her mind could not tell me, but she was so fragile and I felt like a monster for rousing these emotions from within her.

"You are going to feel obligated. You always mention our promise, and . . . and, can't you see, Edward?" She broke off, surely feeling pathetic. Her neck craned to see my expression.

What she saw there made her eyes brighten slightly, and I wondered what I was giving away. I felt my face morph into the calm façade I reserved for when I was indecisive, but something must have slipped. Clearly, I was torn; the love of my existence wanted to offer all of her - her body, her heart, and her life - and what could I give in return? I was no saint when it came to all three, and yet she wanted me.

She wanted me.

I looked at her face, watched as she tried to calm herself, saw the desire still pooled in her brown eyes and the way they looked for the tiniest fault in my defense. I felt my careful lines disappear, fade with the urgency of her breath, fade into nothing but the electricity that coursed between us. I would not give in to her temptation - I loved her too much to risk hurting her. How could she not see that?

My hand curled against her cheek and she must have seen the smoldering depths of my eyes. I clenched my teeth the acute effort needed to control myself as I bent down to press my lips to the sensitive skin right beneath her ear.

She gasped, her hot breath licking the back of neck like flames as I let my lips stay there for a brief moment before branding them on her skin. I could feel her jaw muscles tighten as she tried to control the sounds coming from her mouth, and I knew she had assumed that I had given in.

I was merely trying to remind myself why I could not give in, why I could not do this to her, why I made that promise in the first place. She had no idea how desirable she was, how much I wanted her, and I wished I could show her without hurting her. I let my lips touch her skin, trying to express the emotions - the wishes - I could not put into other actions. She stood perfectly still and I could not see her face, but I had a feeling that she understood. Her hands went to my chest and she pushed back lightly. I stared at her quizzically.

"You really love me, don't you?" she asked, more to herself than to me. I smiled as I took her hand, kissing each of her fingers without breaking my gaze.

"Ah, Bella, what does it take to convince you that I truly do?"

"Nothing. It's just that . . . there are feelings, Edward. Feelings I don't understand. Feelings that are hard to control. Feelings that would hurt if I expressed them. And when you tell me you love me, there are feelings that make me wonder _why._ I can't explain it."

I stared in her eyes and saw the truth laced deep within them. She smiled shyly, as though I had caught her naked, which in some way, I had. She had opened her mind to me and revealed things I never would have fathomed. I was so selfish to believe that she simply could not wait. She was more than that. _We_ were more than that.

I smiled mournfully at her torn expression and pulled her out the kitchen. She followed blindly, bewildered and sputtering pleas for me to slow down. I turned and picked her up effortlessly in my arms, pressing my lips to hers before running out the door, locking it, and rushing out to my car. She was out of breath when I placed her gently in the passenger seat. I closed the door quickly and rushed to the other side, inside within a second of setting her down. She gaped at me, still unused to my sudden movements, and her eyes glanced around nervously.

"Edward?" she questioned as we sped down the driveway.

I put a finger on her lips and smiled when I felt her lips curl upwards. "Bella, I love you, and marriage will not change that. I never feel obligated when I'm with you; my feelings are probably the most natural thing about me."

I turned my face back to the front, intentionally moving my gaze to the road. I heard her heart beat speed up, and felt satisfied that she understood my words. I let her floral scent invade my senses and smiled every time I caught her staring at my profile.

"Are you going to tell me where we are speeding off to?" she inquired after spotting the number of the speedometer.

"We're going to see the _Douceur de Vivre._"

"Huh? The sweetness of life?" she replied, a confused note tingeing her calm voice.

Truthfully, I had not expected her to know that, and she caught me staring at her in astonishment. She scowled as she glared at me.

"Just because you can't hear anything, it doesn't mean it's not empty up here, Edward," she explained, tapping her head in the same way I had done earlier, mocking me.

I chuckled lightly, but my hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Where have you heard it before?"

She let out an odd sound before curtaining her hair around her face to hide it from my view. I briefly wondered if I had said something offensive, but it seemed that she was just embarrassed.

"What?"

She peeked through the curtain of curly hair to see my expression. Then she sighed and sat straight in her seat, peering out the window as the road disappeared beneath the tires and turned to trail.

"I'll tell you once I see this _Douceur de Vivre_." Her tone closed the conversation.

I grinned as I watched her eyes narrow. We were both out of the car, staring into nothingness, knowing there were trees and forest in the distance, but only her being unable to see clearly. We were at the trail that led to the meadow, and she stared ahead of her as she was missing a very important point. She glanced at me, but said nothing as she followed me a few meters into the thick underbrush. Her hand, gripping my sleeve tightly as she tried in vain to step over what she couldn't see, moved to my shoulder. I stopped and turned, grinning at her playfully, and brought her forward with a light tug on her arm. She jumped onto my back, still thoroughly confused, and I breathed deeply as we began running.

She was my sweetness of life, and I would spend all eternity proving it to her. I had time.

* * *

Posted: July 23, 2008.


	9. A Wish for Unity, 1914

**Family Bonding**

Written by: A. Lincoln

Author's Notes and Warnings: Breaking Dawn reminded me how hilarious the internet had the potential to be. Consider this story now pre-Breaking Dawn.

* * *

V: A Wish for Unity

**Chicago, Illinois 1914**

* * *

"Now, Therefore, I, Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the said Joint Resolution, do hereby direct the government officials to display the United States flag on all government buildings and do invite the people of the United States to display the flag at their homes or other suitable places on the second Sunday in May as a public expression of our love and reverence for the mothers of our country."

- Woodrow Wilson on May 9th, 1914

* * *

"She's my wife; you cannot take this opportunity away from me, _boy_."

"But is she your mother? That's why I am more fitting to take her out today of all days."

"That doesn't matter. She's my life, and I need to _publicly _express my love and reverence for her!"

"As do I."

"Why must you be so difficult, Edward Anthony Masen?"

"Why must you be so stubborn, father?"

"Why must you two argue about me, _in front of me?_" I hissed angrily, pushing myself up from the table and walking past my husband who stood stiff in the doorway and my son who sat smugly on the sofa.

I had been trying to tune them both out, and was pleased when their animated voices fell to dull sentences in my mind, without pitches and hard edges to them. It had only been that way for a few minutes before the quiet rapping on the door called my mind back to reality - and to their quarrelling.

This petty arguing over me had gone on for the past hour and I was relieved when I opened the door to find Charles there with a knowing smile on his face. His cheery attitude brought a smile to my face and I beckoned him forward. But he stood at the door, a silhouette against the morning sky in the background, grinning gloriously with his hands behind his back.

I was taken aback by his breathtaking smile, not because it was was beautiful, but because it was rare. Charles was much like my son: intelligent, quiet, watchful and overprotective. There were too many similarities to go through, but one broke the moment I saw his smile. He was one who always brought joy to everyone, never really showing enough of the emotion himself. My family knew the real reason why this was, but we never spoke of it. It was considered taboo. Now though, looking at his grin, I had to wonder who the cause of this was.

After a moment, he strolled inside with his hands still behind his back, and I caught the faint sound of something ruffling in the breeze. I eyed him warily and his smile faded into a smirk as he caught sight of both my boys in the other room.

"Fighting over you, are they?" he inquired jokingly, slipping his shoes off and inching past me without revealing his back.

"Ah, yes. How did you know?"

"A cousin's intuition," he replied smoothly (as he always did), taking a seat at the kitchen table. I pulled out my chair and sat across from him, wiping my hands on my apron and glancing back to survey the two 'men' still quarrelling.

"How about half day?" my husband asked, wiping the sweat off his brow. I laughed quietly as I heard Charles sigh.

"You can have the morning then."

"No. You're not old enough to take full advantage of the evening." I could detect the edge of eminent victory in his voice, and knew it would be short lived. My son would win this. He always did.

"That is true, but aren't you quite limited on a Sunday? After all, you just went to confession."

My husband choked on his saliva for a bit, stared blankly into his son's green eyes, and then sauntered over to the sofa and plopped himself down without so much as a word of rebuttal. His weight caused Edward to shift slightly to reposition himself and I grinned at my son. He smiled back in my direction and my husband's grunt of disapproval was lost in Charles' quiet laughter.

"You all are quite the family," he said when my husband demanded he explain himself. "I'm pleased to know that I contribute to it."

"And I'm pleased to know that you enjoy it," I added, getting up to place a soft kiss on my husband's cheek in reassurance. "Are you too upset to express your _love_ and _reverence_ to me this lovely morning?" I whispered in his ear, delighted that I could stir up some of the deeper emotions within him. He grunted like a child though, and I pinched his cheek as he got up and mumbled something about getting ready and going to the park.

It was quiet as both Edwards left to attend to business, and I was disgruntled by the fact that the two never asked for my opinion during their whole argument. I knew they simply wished for me to enjoy this first official Mother's Day with them both, somehow separately, but to argue about it and not ask for my input was a little too ignorant in my opinion.

I must have looked like I was ready to run someone over with Edward's Ford because Charles was suddenly up on his feet. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door, and I glared menacingly at his back as I voiced my confusion.

"Where are we going?"

"Just outside."

I followed him blindly into the yard. My neighbor wasted no time to kindly remind me of my attire as Charles hauled me down the street. I glared at the woman and whispered something surprisingly rude in my annoyance. She eyed us suspiciously then her eyes widened as she saw what Charles was holding. A giggle escaped her pursed lips and she sent a toothy grin my way.

My eyes must have looked frantic and confused as I tried to see what he was holding and watch others at the same time. Luckily, it was early in the morning, and only that curious neighbor was out to worsen the embarrassment. Without warning, he stopped, and I hissed in aggravation as his hold loosened.

I looked around - we had only gone down two houses, but it seemed as though he had dragged me down the length of the entire street. I stood up fully and ran my fingers through my hair to make it look a little more presentable. I was grateful that I had changed into my morning gown, and I untied my apron and shoved it in Charles' face. He smiled and took it, putting it behind his back and revealing a large bouquet of white carnations.

I gasped, shortly forgetting my simmering anger, and reached out to caress the beautiful flowers. They were like velvet under my fingers, and I could not hide the smile that burst forth. They were magnificent and the beauty emanating from the collection oddly fascinated me. They smelled wonderful and the scent was the only one that registered, even though rows upon rows of roses, lavenders, lilies and orchids surrounded me. My smile reached his as I looked up to stare at him.

"I just wanted to thank you for everything," he said softly, pulling me forward into a crushing hug. I wrapped my arms around him tightly and laughed when he grunted. I felt the tears cascading down my face and into another one of his tailored suits (I soiled at least one a year), but I did not utter a word.

Despite the beauty of the situation, I was crying in sadness. For the past five years, I had received white carnations from an admirer every Sunday in May. They would always be placed in my pew, on the end, with a red ribbon tied in a delicate bow to the stem. I never knew who did it, and my husband would become jealous on several occasions, but he eventually got over it once he realized no one was pursuing anything farther than the little gift. I, however, always found myself smiling and being a little more cheerful every time I received another one.

Maybe, subconsciously, I had an idea who it was from - because, somehow, I knew there was no romantic significance - since this confirmation seemed to only deepen this conviction. Charles had finally decided to reveal himself, and I was crying because it meant something other than happiness.

As we embraced, I felt my heart beat frantically under my skin. I was a strong person, not easily affected physically in such a way, but the fluttering of my heart was akin to a reaction from an event three years ago. I promised myself I would not think about it often, since it brought up unwelcomed emotions and a subtle ache in my chest, but I had to have it resurface to compare it to the ache in my chest now.

And indeed, the two were alike. They both were in reaction to losing someone precious, to having someone ripped violently away from my family. Was that it? Was Charles leaving? I did not understand.

Charles seemed to have sensed my sudden distress, as his firm hands slowly unwound themselves and found refuge on my shoulders. He pushed me back lightly to look into my eyes, and I squinted to crush the tears. I needed to see his face. I did _not_ understand.

He sighed and sent me a comforting smile, and I attempted to smile in return. It felt more like a grimace though, and I settled for a grim line. Only something from Charles would cause me to react like this; I was usually not such an emotion-stricken woman.

As I contemplated, I glanced around. Archer Avenue was eerily quiet, as though everyone felt they were intruding by even glancing outside. It felt strange - as if the two of us were alone in this world and God decided that only one of us would remain. That would have explained the tearing sound coming from my chest - the ripping as though someone was violently tearing away a part of me and refusing to return it.

We continued to stand in silence, looking at each other and asking questions that could not be voiced. His eyes told me he had to leave - somewhere important it seemed - and I told him that I loved him deeply. I knew my eyes were not equipped to express such emotions, but I was afraid to open my mouth. I did not want to ruin the moment; it seemed too perfect, like a middle ground for the both of us.

I never expected to feel content after everything, but I did. I felt changed, as though he knew I would somehow come out unscathed. Of course, I would not dismiss that since Charles knew many things.

It was a short and quiet walk back to the house, and he opened the door for me without a word. I set myself down on a kitchen chair and ignored the look on my husband's face as he came into the kitchen. My cheeks felt soggy, so I figured my husband saw something disturbing on my face.

"Charles, where was that - Elizabeth, you look like a mess. What happened?!"

I glared at him. "Charles is leaving."

He took a moment to process that. I saw his eyes take in the carnations on the table, the expression on my face, the way Charles had his hand on my shoulder, and it was obvious he was trying to comprehend the situation. I could only frown as I watched his face betray nothing and his hands dig into the wood of the doorway.

Another silence enveloped us and it was no surprised that my son did not disrupt the comfort it brought when he entered. He simply set the full force of his green eyes on all of us, and nodded knowingly to Charles. I still could not understand how my son could come to such conclusions from simply observing us, but when I looked at his face, I could not doubt it.

I watched as Edward crossed the length of the kitchen, and on normal days, I would have reprimanded him for having his hair that disarray not suited for Sundays. But I said nothing, for I knew my words would taint the atmosphere, and I was curious to see what my son planned to do.

As always, he surprised me. One moment he stood in front of Charles, his head at my cousin's shoulder, then the next he had his hand outstretched. Charles smiled and grasped his hand firmly, and the action brought a smile to my face.

"She will get better," he said softly, and for the first time in all the years I had known my favourite cousin, his eyes widened. I laughed and my husband could not help but join in as Charles blushed slightly.

"That's what I'll be there for," he replied, and he let his hold loosen on Edward. Their arms fell back to their sides and my husband was suddenly there with them, enjoying this moment.

But my husband, the only person who still was not in on the whole situation, piped up. "Where are you heading out to now?"

"Mississippi."

I decided to make my exit at this point since I could feel the ache returning. I told Charles to wait until I was done preparing for church, and I sauntered upstairs, feeling tired although the midday sun had not even hit the horizon.

I dressed hurriedly, nearly forgetting my bonnet as I searched for the inkpad Charles had given to me when he found out I liked to document events in our lives. I was out of breath when I eventually found it in a box by my bedside. I took it out and opened it slowly, smiling at the blotches disfiguring the surface.

I found a notepad, scribbled a small note onto it, and addressed it to Charles Anthony Brandon. I placed a small red ribbon inside and closed it up, and was rushing downstairs when my husband called my name.

I handed the letter to Charles and I had to fight the tears from flowing once more when he smiled kindly at me. I would miss him dearly.

We were outside and piling into Edward's Ford when I heard my son casually remind my father of today.

"Father, your time starts now."

The ride to church seemed extremely uncomfortable for my husband, but I was smiling and laughing at Charles' simple observations the whole way there.

* * *

It was nearly evening when my husband decided to hand me over to my son. He had taken me out for lunch with Charles, and then we had visited Chicago's only Nickelodeon to watch _Roof to Cellar_ and _Catch the Kid._ They were being re-shown due to their popularity, and I could clearly see why. My husband was arrogantly pleased when we left and Charles seemed happy regardless.

When we returned, Edward was not home. He left no traces or hints to where he had gone, and I began my panicking. The sun was setting and the sky had begun to dissolve into the many different colours of dawn, but my eyes could not appreciate the beauty when I had no idea where Edward was.

I was pacing, becoming agitated, and I could feel the joy of Mother's Day slowly dissipating off my skin. My husband was outside, scanning the street to see if he could spot him, and Charles just sat at the table, watching me. Even though he was leaving soon, I could not help but be annoyed at his nonchalance.

I ignored his stare as I paced and my mumbling quickly turned into hisses under my breath. Where on Earth was _he_? Was he not, just a minute ago, arguing over how much time he wanted to spend with me?

I was about to rush to the door when my husband walked in, a frown on his face. My mouth opened to ask him the first question that came to mind, but a new arrival kept my it closed. She was quite tall, probably nearly Edward's height, with a heart shaped face that matched her thin figure.

She was wearing a pink evening gown with ruffles that made her look like a porcelain doll, and I smiled at her politely as she pushed my husband towards me. I caught Charles with an eyebrow raised in the corner, and was mildly surprised that he was surprised.

"Ann, is it?" I asked slowly. I knew the toothy neighbor had a beautiful daughter, one that Edward had shown cute interest for last year, but I never saw her enough to etch her face into my memory. But surely it branded itself there now because I couldn't keep my eyes off the curly brown hair that framed her face delicately.

Her head turned slowly and she stared at me for a moment before grinning. She let go of my husband, who still had a scowl on his face, and rushed over. Her gloved hand took hold of mine, and she caressed my skin softly, as though she was checking to see if the stories were true.

"You're so beautiful," she said in awe, and I was not sure if she was complimenting my hand or me. Either way, I could tell she had something to say (in regards to Edward?), so I waited for her to stop marveling at the texture of my skin. "Yes, my name is Ann. It is an honor finally meeting you. Edward is quite fond of you, you know."

"I suppose it is implied since I am his mother," I replied awkwardly when she let go of my hand. "Do you happen to know where he is?"

"I do, actually," she sang as she grabbed my hand once more. She tried to pull me towards the door, but I did not budge. She sent me a questioning look, no doubt acquired from her always-curious mother, and I laughed.

"Do you mind telling me where we are going first, ma'am?" I smiled as her face lit up and she giggled.

"Edward asked if he could borrow the second floor of mamma's restaurant, and he asked _me_ to escort you there."

I spared a glance at my husband and could tell that his pride was hurt from this revelation. I turned to Charles and he beamed comfortingly at me before excusing himself to start packing.

"Your mamma said yes?" I asked, wondering how a thirteen year old could gain so much power. Then again, he was the child of one of the most dazzling men in the world, so I refused to be surprised if he had used his charms on her.

"Of course! Who would say no to him?" It was obvious she was smitten.

She tugged a little harder and I was reminded of how much time we had spent talking here. I let her pull me out of the house, waving goodbye to my husband who still frozen, tall and angry. She took me down the street and we walked, hand in hand, to the corner, where there was a vehicle waiting for us. I did not know the driver, but the ride was quiet and comforting, despite its length. We had only gone a few blocks, certainly walking distance, and then we were in front of _Libretto_. The building was a cube, and the title took up at least half of the front. It was painted an off-white and provided no relief for its surroundings, but I found it enchanting as I stepped inside.

A rush of voices hit me and I looked around to find many women having wine with their families. One particular family was praising our president while another was talking excitedly about plans for the duration of the evening. Their excitement seeped into my skin as Ann pushed past the bar and up the stairs. I only faintly caught the sign she posted as we walked past a small gate halfway up the stairs; it said something along the lines of closed.

I was dazed and unprepared as we reached the top, and I nearly fell backwards as I caught sight of everything around me. Everything had been pushed aside it seemed, and there was only one table in the centre. There was a pathway of carnations to the table, white and pink from the looks of it, and I felt that breathing would require too much effort - something that needed to be put towards more useful things like keeping my heart beating.

Ann had been watching me the whole time, silent as I observed the sheer beauty of the decorations around me. When she felt I was finished, she gently tugged me forward until I was at the table, and then disappeared. Or she just left. I was not sure, since one minute she was there, and the next she was gone and another person had taken a seat across from me.

I tried to string together words to form something coherent, _anything_ to say to the one person before me, but nothing came. Instead, I slowly stretched my quivering hand across the table, and placed it on tops of hers. I was stunned by the perfection of the moment; I had never felt so calm in all my life. The woman who represented me, but with many more years to her name, was here to spend this evening with me - just _us_ and no one else.

And I could no longer doubt anything anyone said. I could no longer look at the world around me and wonder why God had chosen me to bear witness to the brutality and wonders of it. For this moment, and everything it entailed, was the only one that mattered. In this moment, the world was not a place throbbing with sinners who wished for mercy; it was a world where everyone just wanted to _live_ and _love_ and _adore_ anyone close to them.

Because, after everything was said and done, what was left? It was not the ties of friends that kept you sane during the darkest hours; it was not the ties of enemies that kept you alive when you wished to die; and it was not the ties of heroes that kept you hopeful when all seemed lost. It was the tie of blood, thicker than water, thicker than air, thicker than _everything_ that kept you alive. That kept you breathing, sleeping, and living.

And the amazing thing was that everyone was your family. Those friends were just family not related by blood. Those enemies were just family you were not fond of. Those heroes were just family who helped you understand the world a bit more and who sacrificed something important along the way.

So when my hand touched my mother's, and she whispered a happy mother's day to me, the tears that exploded from me were not tears of sadness or longing. They were tears of understanding. Each drop helped me to understand the world a bit better - to understand the reasons and the motives behind things, and to learn to live with them.

My mother smiled at me and reached to put her wrinkled hand on top of mine. She did not have to say anything to express her feelings. I knew from her feathery touch that she was proud, and that she did not need an official day to celebrate the joys of motherhood. I had stopped crying by then, but I could not speak. I had not seen her in years, and our dinner was mostly her speaking of her journey from the south. She was actively a part of the Civil Rights Movement, and was wanted in several states. I was surprised and worried for her safety, as she was now in her late sixties and growing frailer each day, but she laughed at my pessimism.

"Have I taught you nothing? Elizabeth, this world is filled with family who do not understand the title they hold. I will fight until we are all equal. When we can all hold hands and walk towards our saviour in unity, then my job will be done. It is the least I can do with the time I have left."

Then I began crying like a child again because my mother was a martyr and I was being unfair. She knew that I was berating myself though, and gently held my hand between hers.

"If you look into your palm, you can see your entire family." Her finger slowly traced the patterns on mine, and I felt the hinges of my mind begin to loosen. "Everyone who came before you is imprinted in your skin, and they are with you for whatever decisions you make. Do not doubt your family, for those before you have made these decisions already, and you are here as a testament to their choices. Elizabeth, I love you, and I thank your son for finding me and bringing me here. I want you to be strong for him especially, since it seems the he is beyond his years. You know what he said to me?"

I smiled at her compliment and whispered that it was probably something life changing. We laughed together for a moment, and she continued.

"He said that people who were important to you were leaving, and he would be honored if I could step back in to mend those wounds. But he also knew the reason why I had not visited you earlier - your safety, of course - and he said something which surprised me. Mind you, I am not surprised easily. He said that he wished to remind you what you live for, and that I would be the perfect one to do it. He even said I did not have to say a word. And the most surprising thing was that he was exactly right. The moment you saw me, Elizabeth, I could tell that you were mending wounds."

I had nothing to say after that. I smiled weakly, overcome with everything, and she understood. She supplied the rest of the conversation and I ate in silence. I was happy that she was alive and well, but the fear that she would be torn away from me once more still crept up my throat. That was why I would not speak; I did not wish to ruin this tender moment with my pessimism. When I was too elated to eat anymore, I just picked at the food while she talked about running from executioners and hiding slaves.

The moon was a large mark in the sky by the time we were finished, and I thanked Ann immensely when she handed me a washcloth and directed me to the washroom. I cleaned my face twice, staring at my twisted expression in the mirror as I tried to decide which emotion was winning the battle. By the looks of it, sadness was edging back towards its home in the back of my mind, and I felt a smile on my face as I washed my hands under the cold water.

I was surprised when I heard the the soft sound of piano playing outside, and I went to investigate. I saw a small figure situated by a grand piano in the corner, one that I had not noticed until then. I turned and Ann saw the confusion and pain on my face as I sought my mother. The whole area was empty except for the three of us, and the only sound that registered (other than the beautiful piano) was the creaking hinges of the small gate that blocked upstairs as it swung. The forward and back motion was mesmerizing as I realized that my mother had gone and this night was over.

I sauntered towards the piano and sat next to the boy who continued to play. The tune cleansed my ears of the pessimistic voice in my mind, and I gently laid my head against his shoulder. The tempo slowed and I could hear the song transitioning into something sweeter. I listened closely with my eyes closed and recognized the song I had written for my husband. He had done some adjusting, I guessed, and made it his own, and I listened with a smile as his fingers moved across the keys.

"Thank you, Edward," I mumbled, and I was surprised at how quiet my voice was. I could feel myself falling asleep and my eyelids became heavy as Edward whispered directions to Ann. Suddenly it was just the two of us in this desolate place, with Ann having gone to fetch someone.

He stopped playing and began to hum the tune, and I wondered if he knew how tired I was becoming. I tried without success to keep my eyes open, and it was not long before I began drifting.

I had a strange dream that night. I was in a field and rows of small children were coming towards me in long lines. They were all smiling as if a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders. But what caught my attention most was their unity. They stepped together, held hands, and they all hummed the same tune I heard before I drifted to this place.

I tried to spot my son and waved when I found him in the first line. He was holding the hand of a black child, and I could not hide my surprise. I half expected someone to ambush us from the surrounding forest, but no one came as the children approached.

I felt a small tug on the back of my dress as I got up to meet them. I turned to find my mother standing there with cuts and bruises marring her skin. Blood ran down her hairline and she panted in exhaustion, but her smile of exultation was enough to make me smile despite my confusion.

"This is what I would like to call family bonding," she whispered, and I eyed her warily before turning back to look at what she was staring at.

And when I saw all the bandages, clothes and buckets of water they were carrying with them towards their saviour, I could not help but agree.

* * *

Posted: August 7, 2008


End file.
